


The Limits of Reason

by LonelyCassiopeia (orphan_account)



Category: Supernatural
Genre: BDSM, Dom/sub, Enthusiastic Consent, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Sub!Castiel
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-10-09
Updated: 2015-05-31
Packaged: 2018-02-20 12:01:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 15
Words: 63,243
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2427959
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/LonelyCassiopeia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Castiel is a perfectly reasonable person. That's why, after thorough research and consideration, he's decided to hire a professional Dominant. After all, repression has never worked for him, so it's only logical to act on his long-held desires in a safe, controlled atmosphere so that maybe he can get them out of his system and move on with his life, minus the distracting fantasies.</p><p>These plans are destroyed when he meets Dean Winchester, and his world is turned upside down.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

“Mr. Milton? Mr. Crowley will see you now,” the young receptionist- Juliet, her name tag said- called out to Castiel. 

“Thank you very much,” Castiel said, hoping he sounded calmer than he felt, and rose from the cramped plastic chair where he’d been waiting.

He exited the Heavenly Delights lobby, proceeded down the hallway Juliet directed him toward, and stopped before a door labelled ‘Crowley.’ Before he could knock, a man with short brown hair and a closely-trimmed beard swung the door open with a flourish.

“Mr. Milton the Younger! The boss’ baby brother! Pleasure to meet you,” Crowley said as he swept Castiel inside his office. Whatever else could be said about his brother, Castiel had to concede that Gabriel must compensate his employees well, judging by Crowley’s plush black leather chairs, huge wooden desk, sleek computer, and picturesque view of the Golden Gate Bridge.

“Take a seat, Mr. Milton. Or may I call you Castiel?”

“Castiel is fine, thank you,” Cas said, sinking into one of the chairs and facing Crowley as he sat down at the desk’s opposite side.

“Alright, let us begin then. From what little information your brother has given me, it seems you’d like to visit some beehive in Missouri?” He spoke disdainfully, as if it was mystifying that a person would request such a thing. 

Castiel would have defended his interest in beekeeping at any other time, but at the moment, he simply wanted to force out the true purpose of this meeting before he lost his courage.

“Actually, that’s not really what I’m here for,” Castiel admitted hesitantly. A trip to one of the largest apiaries in the country would be wonderful, but that was just a cover story to convince Gabriel to provide him with a meeting with one of Gabe’s Heavenly Delights representatives.

“Thank god for tiny miracles. I wasn’t sure I’d be able to get through planning something so simultaneously freakish and dull. What are you ‘really here for’ then?” Castiel cheeks burned at the question, and Crowley smiled at him like a cat that had captured a mouse.

“Ah. You want a taste of something a wee bit sexier than bumblebees? You need a little assistance bleeding the weasel, buffing the banana-” Castiel had to cut him off before he did something regrettable, like shoving Crowley out of that huge bay window.

“I want to get in contact with a professional Dom!” he blurted out over Crowley’s yammering and promptly regretted his outburst once he realized how loudly he had yelled.

“Well, that certainly is much more interesting; you have somehow managed not to disappoint me, Cassie. So, you’re in the market for a little pain with your pleasure? You’ve certainly come to the right man because that is my specialty!” Crowley said, clasping his hands together and looking immensely pleased with himself.

“Listen, I came here because I’ve heard that this will all be confidential and that you do full background and health checks on everyone this company employs. Is that correct?” He had ruled out visiting a BDSM club or trying to meet someone online for both safety and social reasons. There needed to be a guarantee that he wouldn’t contract an STD, be murdered, or scene with someone less private than him, someone who may disclose his more…unique sexual proclivities to the rest of the world. Secrecy and security were absolute necessities for him to even think about going through with this.

Crowley didn’t seem to share his concerns. He waved his hands in the air as though swatting a fly and said, “Yes, yes, of course, it's all completely safe. It wouldn’t be good for business if clients were being whipped to death or given syphilis at every turn. That’s why you’ll be paying me so well for my services. I’m also assuming that you don’t want your dear big brother to know anything about this either?”

He didn’t want _anyone_ to _ever_ know about this. “No, absolutely not. All I want is a discreet, safe way to…um-”

“Get someone to spank your naughty bits?”

Castiel puffed up indignantly at that remark, but before he could respond, Crowley said, “Don’t get pissy with me! I’m simply providing you with a service you clearly desire. Now, if you can keep yourself from having a tantrum, I need specifics on what you’re searching for aside from ‘Dom.' First, do you want a man or woman?”

“A man.” Castiel knew that in San Francisco, it was unlikely that someone would judge him negatively for being gay, especially Crowley, who had undoubtedly been given much stranger ‘special requests’ than Castiel’s, but he couldn’t prevent the pang of fear that twisted his gut every time his sexuality came up.

Growing up in an ultra-conservative family with a mother who demanded conformity in all areas made it impossible to be comfortably ‘out.’

Crowley didn’t show any surprise, though, and moved to the next question after recording Castiel’s answer. “What age are you looking for? Do you want a brand-new daddy?” Crowley asked with a smarmy grin that Castiel wanted to slap off his face.

“No, thank you,” he managed to grind out past his clenched teeth. “Someone closer to my age would be ideal, if at all possible.” Castiel imagined that starting out with someone near to him in age might be less nerve-wracking for a first experience. 

“And, finally, as well as most importantly: do you want a one-night, purely sexual affair, or are you looking for an arrangement that's a bit more long-term?”

Castiel was tempted to bolt out of the room. This was the part of his fantasies that he had always been most ashamed of, that deep-seated desire he had lurking within him to give up control outside of the bedroom as well as in it, and to belong to someone in a way he never had before.

There was no way in hell he was going to admit this to Crowley, however, so he kept his answer brief. “I wouldn’t mind being able to discuss something long-term with him, but I’m certainly not ready to jump into anything 24/7 right now,” Castiel said and was proud that his voice didn’t waver. Crowley’s total lack of reaction beyond smug amusement was somehow helping him feel like less of a sexual deviant. 

“Easy enough: male Dom in his early to mid-twenties who may be up for discussing a long-term contract and who is prepared to Dom outside of the bedroom. I have a man in mind who has worked for Heavenly Delights intermittently for years and comes with glowing recommendations,” Crowley said as he finished typing Castiel’s information into his computer. He ripped a piece of paper off a notepad and quickly scrawled something onto it.

“This is the email address of the Dom I’m connecting you to. Once we're finished here, I’ll be sending him the contact information you provided Heavenly Delights with, so he should be emailing you tonight. He’s been out of the business for a little while, but from what I know about him and what I’ve learned about you, I believe it may be a decent match,” Crowley said and passed the paper to Castiel.

Castiel looked at the slip of paper and read it to himself: 'ramblingon67@gmail.com.' It was simply an email address, but it felt heavy and momentous in Castiel’s hands. 

“I have no idea what ‘rambling on’ is supposed to mean,” Crowley unhelpfully supplied. “I asked the man, and he mumbled something about it being from a song. He’s not a very talkative fellow. Honestly, he always looks kind of pissy, but that might be suitable for you since you seem like a bit of an oddball yourself.” Castiel decided to not dignify that comment with a response.

This was it. This was his last chance to back out. He could still tell Crowley not to bother contacting this guy; he could still walk out of Crowley’s office and forget this ever happened. He could pass this meeting off as a minor lapse in sanity. He could probably even make it back to work in time to complete a couple more tedious budgetary reports if he left immediately.

Crowley snapped his fingers in Castiel’s face. “Come join me here on Earth for a few more minutes, Cassie, and I’ll let you go back to your soppy fantasizing. You’ll need to sign this nondisclosure agreement for me here,” he said, presenting Castiel with a lengthy contract. “It wouldn’t be very good for your big brother if news got out about what goes on underneath all the family-friendly fun of his business’s exterior, and the man you're meeting likely doesn’t want the work he does here to be shared either. So, if you’ll sign on the dotted line, you are free to go,” Crowley stated and stared at Castiel expectantly.

Castiel made sure to read the entire agreement word for word before even _considering_ signing and refused to be hurried by Crowley’s impatient grousing. If he was going to do this, he would at the very least ensure he wasn’t about to be duped. As much as he loved his brother, he wouldn’t have put it past Gabriel to be running a scam on the side of his more legitimate business operations.

“I truly appreciate you taking your sweet, sweet time reading that; now could you sign it please?” Crowley said irritably, thrusting a pen into Cas’s hand.

Castiel paused, pen in hand, above the dotted signature line. Final chance to run away.

 _Fuck it! I’m sick of being good, dutiful little soldier Castiel; I’ll do something that **I** want for once in my life,_ Castiel thought determinedly, signing his name and shoving the contract back at Crowley.

“Excellent! Now that we have that all panned out, it's time to move on to the most important aspect of this transaction: you paying me…”

~

Castiel left the skyscraper that housed Heavenly Delights’ headquarters and stepped into the blinding afternoon sunlight. He was almost proud of himself, proud that he had done something _for_ himself instead of blindly following whatever it was his family expected of him. However, on the cab ride back to his apartment, the reality of his situation began to sink in.

He had hired a pro-Dom; he had bought into a company’s seedy underbelly that a respectable accountant such as himself wouldn’t have heard of if it weren’t for Gabriel drunkenly bragging about its existence at mandatory family gatherings. 

Heavenly Delights was, on paper, a family-oriented company, Gabriel’s unique version of the Make-a-Wish Foundation. He and his representatives did everything from creating special voyages to exotic locations to finding front-row tickets to sold-out concerts. This made Gabriel wildly successful, but he had never been satisfied with merely playing by the rules, so he dabbled in less-than-legal activities on the side. Like prostitution. Like connecting clients with paid Dominants.

And now Castiel was one of those clients because he was too socially stunted and too nervous to scour bars and clubs and find a suitable partner on his own, so he had to pay someone to fulfill his desires.

He couldn’t stop himself from repeating these thoughts over and over in a mental loop throughout the cab ride. He wound up in the dark headspace he visited all too often, the one that had Naomi’s, or sometimes Michael’s, voice and told him how pathetic and defective he was. 

Upon arrival at his shabby little apartment complex, he noted with no small amount of relief that his roommate, Meg, hadn’t returned from work yet; he wouldn’t have been able to stomach her taunting at the moment. In an effort to distract himself from his own thoughts, he set about completing a profit-and-loss report for a start-up tech company. His meeting with its CFO wasn’t until the following Monday, but Castiel always preferred to finish his projects far in advance in order to avoid any unwelcome surprises or mishaps.

Unfortunately, he was unable to concentrate on anything related to budget analysis, a dull subject even on the best of days; he kept focusing on his embarrassment and frustration over what had transpired that afternoon. All of the pride he had previously felt over taking charge of the situation and planning to fulfill a long-held fantasy had vanished. He was simply a freak who needed to use Gabriel’s pimping business.

Gabriel, who claims to have had sex last weekend that incorporated three women who were, in Gabe’s words ‘totally desperate for my intense, yet playful, style of lovemaking, and also my cock’, a chocolate fountain, and a white Bengal tiger.

Castiel ended up lying in bed with a pillow pressed over his face, wondering, why him? Why did he have to be the weirdo who’s into dicks and domination? Couldn’t he have just been born like any other guy so that he’d be happy with breasts and normal sex?

Castiel wallowed in these thoughts for about an hour before remembering it was his night to handle dinner. Because he had zero cooking ability, he went ahead and ordered Chinese food since Meg would likely be arriving at the apartment soon. He nervously checked his email to see if the Dom had already sent him anything; when he saw nothing in his inbox other than spam, relief and disappointment came in equal measures. 

On the one hand, if the man never contacted him, he would receive a full refund from Crowley and the whole thing would be forgotten (except in Castiel’s mind, where he’d keep on aimlessly fantasizing). There was the depressing idea, however, that maybe this man had been informed of Castiel’s inexperience and oddness and decided he wanted nothing to do with him.

While he was pondering this, he heard the front door swing open, and in stormed Meg.

“Clarence, where are you?!” She shouted as he ambled out of his bedroom to greet her. 

“I’m right here,” he said, taking in her irritated expression and the large red stain on her pale blue scrubs.

“Is that…?”

She put her hands on her hips and huffed out a deep breath; a Meg-rant was clearly imminent. “Blood? Why yes it is, Clarence. The loony bin was going crazier than usual today. I saw a man who wouldn’t quit barking at me like a dog. I witnessed a teenager who seemed intent on modeling himself after Sid from Toy Story judging by his collection of mutilated Barbie dolls. But, where did that blood come from, you ask? That would be my totally incompetent co-worker, Ruby, who had one job this afternoon, and that one job was to draw blood from select patients and take it down to the lab. What does she do? She rushes around a corner and slams into me, knocking her blood buckets all over me, so now I look like Carrie after the mean kids dumped pig blood on her at prom,” she said, stomping around their tiny living room.

His friend’s tirades usually lightened his moods, and even today Castiel couldn’t help but smile slightly. Meg may have seemed harsh and could definitely be cruel to her enemies (real or imagined), but she had always shown him loyalty and friendship. She had been there for him when he had no one else and supported him through one of the most difficult times of his life, so for that he would always love her.

She paused in her diatribe and trained an inquisitive look on Castiel, picking up on his lingering unhappiness. “What’s the problem, Clarence? Did talking with Gabe not work out very well?”

Oh, right. Castiel had almost forgotten the excuse he’d given her about his appointment today. He’d said that he wanted to meet with Gabriel and discuss their older brother Lucifer’s most recent stint in jail, along with how they would fund their little sister, Anna’s, education if Naomi decided to pull away her money. Best friend or not, he wasn’t ready to talk with _anyone_ about what the true purpose of the meeting had been.

“No, it was alright,” he said, hating himself for lying to her. “Well, as right as things ever go when it comes to my family.”

“Just remember this when you’re feeling down, Clarence: you turned out good. Out of all of your siblings, you’re the best. I mean, just think of Gabriel; what is it now, he needs to involve tigers in his sex life to get his rocks off? Sure, you’re still a virginal little angel, but come on, you could be a hell of a lot worse,” she said teasingly.

“Ha, that’s very true!” Castiel told her, but even he could hear the insincerity in his voice.

 _If only you knew what it is that I am in to._ She was one of the few people who knew he was gay, but that was the extent of her knowledge about his sexuality. She assumed he was a socially awkward prude with high standards. The awkward part at least was certainly accurate. She had dragged him to a several gay bars before, but Castiel somehow always said the wrong thing and turned guys away. He had to admit, his social skills could really use some work.

In fact, the last time a man had hit on him, he’d ended up rambling on about marine phycology until the guy had escaped. He hadn’t even realized until long after the incident that he had been boring the man.

That’s why he was paying someone to meet up with him to dominate, and maybe even fuck, him. Because he was incapable of getting anyone’s attention with his personality alone, he had to wave money in their face. 

Meg had seemingly sensed his desire to be alone, which was miraculous considering her usual level of tact, and gone to change out of her bloody scrubs and stick them in the laundry basket. Shortly afterwards, their delivery food arrived, and they fell into their usual weeknight routine of sprawling out on their old, worn couch and watching a mixture of E!News and the Discovery Channel.

While it didn’t make Castiel feel any better about himself, sitting with his friend and listening to her snarky commentary about celebrities did provide him with a distraction. He was able to pull his work back out and make a little progress on that report that was due next week. He blocked all thoughts of the afternoon from his mind and resolved to keep himself from obsessively checking his email that evening.

Of course, that didn’t work out quite as well as planned. Eventually, his curiosity got the best of him, and he went to look at his inbox, expecting, and to a certain extent, hoping to see nothing new.

Except, when he checked, there was a message waiting for him with a subject line that stated **HEAVENLY DELIGHTS PRESENTS…**

“Excuse me Meg, but I’m going to my room in order to finalize some projects for work,” he said, hoping his voice was steady and inconspicuous. He wasn’t sure if the man was meaning to shout at him with the all-caps subject line or if he simply wasn’t very tech-savvy, but Castiel was quite certain he wouldn’t be able to maintain a blank face while reading whatever the Dom had to say.

After leaving her and reaching the peace of his bedroom, he stretched out on his bed and tentatively opened the email. He read: 

_**Dear Castiel (or can I call you Cas?),** _

_My name is Dean; I’m the man Crowley thought may be a good match for what you need. I’m guessing you probably don’t want to get into any details over email, but I also figured you’d want assurance that I’m worth the money you’re paying before we set any plans up._

_I’ve been working in this business professionally off and on for the past six years. Crowley should have told you that I’ve had background and health checks, but if you’d like to speak with some of my past clients before jumping into this, or before we meet in person, I can send you their contact information._

_I think it’s best to talk about the details of our arrangement in person as soon as possible, though, so that we can get a feel for one another as individuals. Crowley mentioned to me that you’re inexperienced, which makes it especially important for me to know you at least a little before we start anything. My priority here is making sure that you’re comfortable and knowledgeable about everything we may do._

_Is there any time this Saturday you would be available to meet with me so we can talk? I’ll let you pick out where we go._

_-Dean W._

_P.S. How do you pronounce your name?_

_-Tuesday, September 18, 8:14 PM-_

Castiel scanned through the email repeatedly. Once he'd read the letter for the fifth time, his nerves had calmed considerably.

Dean seemed so…normal. Castiel had initially pictured a burly, domineering man wearing leather and wielding a whip, a man who would immediately start doling out orders and had a name like Big Dick Rick. He knew enough about the BDSM scene to realize that image was nothing more than a stereotype, but there had still been that niggling worry that Crowley would send him to a nutcase. It eased his worries knowing that Dean wasn’t going to try to pressure him into anything major right off the bat; though Castiel wanted this, he also was absolutely not ready to leap into anything intense too soon. 

And, Dean didn’t seem like he’d try to transform Castiel from virginal to the perfect sub overnight. While he had been thinking and researching about this for years and in the process amassed a large amount of theoretical knowledge, he had no idea what to expect in reality aside from the basics and was beyond grateful that Dean appeared to be alright with his inexperience.

An ugly voice in the back of his mind reminded him that, yeah, dummy, of course Dean’s fine with his newness, he’s being paid to do this. 

Pushing that thought aside, Castiel lighted on what was currently the most important part of this arrangement: secrecy. He was incredibly thankful that Dean had put no details in the email, given Meg’s tendency to figure out his passwords and log in under his name, and was pleased that Crowley hadn’t exaggerated the discreet nature of the business. The offer of being able to contact Dean’s past subs was also immensely comforting.

And then, of course, the part about arranging to meet in person: was Castiel truly ready for this? He was free Saturday like Dean had asked, but seeing the Dom in person would really solidify the reality of the situation, taking his fantasies from the corners of his mind he was too scared to fully examine and plopping them right in the middle of his life.

He sat and pondered this before coming to the conclusion that meeting with Dean was actually the most logical thing to do. Realistically, he wasn’t going to be able to just _quit_ thinking about and wanting this. He knew that praying away the gay and suppression never really worked, no matter what Naomi said. Maybe if he gave this a try, though, he’d discover that he didn’t like subbing and that it was something better left to the imagination. Maybe Dean would be cold and unpleasant, and maybe he wouldn’t even like Castiel. He could get this out of his system and go back to his life _without_ the desires that had been a constant force in his life for years.

So, with this in mind, it was perfectly reasonable when he responded to Dean and agreed to meet with him on Saturday.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone! Thank you so much for taking the time to read this. Liked it? Hated it? Overwhelmed with apathy? Either way, I would love to hear any opinions you may have, and constructive criticism is ALWAYS appreciated.
> 
> Again, thank you for reading. :)


	2. Chapter 2

Castiel scrutinized his appearance in his bathroom mirror on Saturday morning and came to a highly unsatisfactory conclusion: that he was completely unremarkable and entirely unprepared to meet with a pro-Dom.

What business did he have doing this? What the hell had he been thinking? Meeting up with a stranger who he was paying to fulfill a sexual fantasy was something Gabriel would do, not responsible Castiel, not mother’s-good-little-soldier Castiel. At the thought of his mother, another wave of anxiety washed over him. _Naomi_. She would be so disappointed in him if she knew what he was doing. Disappointed was likely an understatement; she’d probably be completely disgusted. She was already appalled by his gayness, but this would truly sicken her.

This was an awful idea. He had become too wrapped up in his bizarre fantasies and lost sight of common sense. He’d floated through the past three work days, wondering what his Dom would be like in person and dreaming about what may be ahead, but now he was crashing back down to earth.

Then there was another concern that had crept up on him: had he been too forward in his communications with Dean? Was he more assertive than a sub was expected to be? Maybe he wasn’t expected to give an opinion in where and when they were to meet up. They were going to a café Dean had suggested, but Castiel had chosen the time. Did he need to try and make up for that by being quiet and subservient at this meeting? And did any of that even matter? Dean probably didn’t care since he was being paid for this; he likely just wanted to tie Castiel up, leave, and collect his paycheck.

While Castiel knew the basic protocol of BDSM was centered on staying safe, sane, and consensual, there was still so very much uncertainty about how to proceed in reality. He wished that he had spoken to people on FetLife about this, but he had always been too cautious to do more than lurk, so he'd never actually used his account or interacted with other members.

Well, it was too late now. That ship had sailed.

He left his room after scowling at himself in the mirror one last time and walked out to the living room to say goodbye to Meg, who was already slumped on the couch with a mug of coffee. She glanced up at him upon his arrival.

“Morning, Clarence,” she said, scanning her eyes up and down his body. “That’s what you’re wearing on your date?” she asked incredulously, as though there was a problem with his suit, tie, and trench coat combination. 

He had told her that his meeting this morning was a date with a man he’d met on OkCupid, which she had made him register for an account with months ago but had never been used. She had been overly-enthused about the idea of him going on a date, but that was easier to handle than telling her, ‘I’m meeting with a man in the hopes he’ll chain me to his bed and paddle me because I’m a pervert who’s into that sort of thing.’

No matter whether it was a date or a meeting about BDSM, though, he wanted to look like himself. “Yes, it is what I’m wearing, Meg. I want to look like me, since I’m hoping this man will like _me_ , not the little ‘twink’ you wanted to dress me up as,” he said in exasperation. He loved her to death but sometimes had the impression that she wanted him to be more stereotypically gay so that she could use him as her personal Ken doll and call him ‘twinky boy.' He’d had to break her of that nickname shortly after coming out to her. She had settled on Clarence instead, which he didn't really understand but found much more acceptable.

“Alright, I get it, you want to be yourself; you know I’m all for self-expression. Don’t worry, Clarence, whoever your mystery guy is, I’m sure he’s gonna love you in all your nerdy, accountant-y, bee-loving glory. If not, hopefully he’s hot so you can get a good bang out of this,” she told him with a sly grin, believing that he was still entirely innocent and virginal.

He may have been a virgin, but innocent…not exactly. He’d accumulated knowledge over the years but no experience. He was half-tempted to tell her what he was really doing but ultimately decided not to. She probably wouldn’t be disgusted with his desires like he knew his mother would be, but he couldn’t imagine that someone as take-charge as she was would ever understand his want…no, need to give up control like this. He would have to laugh off her virgin comments as he always did.

“Yes, Meg, you know me; I’m always on the prowl for the next sexy guy to screw. I can only hope he lives up to my high standards, since, as you know, I’m a veritable connoisseur of cock.”

She laughed brightly and said, “Thatta boy, Clarence! Now you go get him! Still wish you’d let me know something about him…” She could grumble about his secrecy all she wanted, but it would get her nowhere.

“Not going to happen, Meg!” She sure as hell didn’t need to know anything about the Dom; it wasn’t like they’d be in a real relationship. “You will make sure to check for my text, though, right? Remember, if I don’t contact you by 10:30, I’d like you to call the police.” He may not have known much about how he was expected to act, but he had done thorough research on protecting himself and knew the importance of having a safe call. They were meeting at 10:00, so that would give him half an hour to text her. It was a decent amount of time for him to settle in with Dean but not long enough for Dean to hide a corpse if things went south.

“Yes, I know, that’s the only reason I’m up this early, so I can watch out for you; in all seriousness, I’ll be here if you need me for anything,” she said sincerely, and he was unexpectedly hit by a surge of warmth. She was the first person he’d ever become close to outside of his family, and her care meant the world to him.

“Thank you, Meg, really. I’ll be heading out now,” he said, walking out the door and to his Lincoln Continental. Meg called it his pimp mobile, but it was one of the first things he had purchased with his own money, so it was important to him. Privately, he'd thought of it as a symbol of independence from his family.

“Good luck, Clarence! You’re gonna blow his mind,” he heard her shout from the doorway as he drove off.

~

The cacophony in the small café was almost deafening. Why the hell would Dean choose a place like this for their meeting? It was noisy, and people were packed in at tiny Formica tables like sardines in a can, along with a dozen waiters running around shouting orders at cooks from across a long counter.

How was he even supposed to find Dean in here? He was expecting a quiet, peaceful place where they could have a private discussion and where he’d be able to identify a man around his age sitting alone. Here though? There was no way he’d be able to pick Dean out of this crowd.

“’Scuse me?” Castiel jumped when he felt a hand on his back. “Are you Castiel?” asked a man with a deep, rumbling voice.

Cas turned to see a solidly-built man, who was maybe an inch or two taller than him and wearing a Led Zeppelin t-shirt, smiling down at him.

“Yes, I am. I suppose that you’re Dean?” he said in an anxious rush. At least finding him wouldn't be an issue.

“Sure am,” he said with a sunny grin. “I have a table in the back corner if you’re ready to join me.”

“Yes, absolutely. Lead the way,” Castiel said. He followed Dean as he weaved through the swaths of people to a small booth in a secluded alcove that Castiel hadn’t noticed when he’d first entered the café.

“Sorry for how busy it is today,” Dean said as they both sat down, “but I thought having some noise around us would keep us from being overheard, especially since I knew about a couple quieter tables in the back like this one.” As he said this, he was eyeballing Castiel appraisingly in a way that made Cas’s stomach clench nervously. What if he didn’t like what he saw? Perhaps he should have permitted Meg to use him as her fashion plate after all.

“I don’t mind the noise; that was good thinking to select a place where we won’t be noticed,” he said and took a closer look at Dean. He was really quite beautiful with his short, slightly spiked hair (Castiel couldn't determine whether it was dark blond or light brown), his mossy green eyes, and his face that was dotted with freckles. Castiel tended not to be very observant in regard to people’s appearances. He usually only found men attractive once he knew something about their personalities, but Dean had a certain intangible quality that drew Castiel to him.

Honestly, it could have had something to do with the fact that Castiel had nearly been coming in his pants imagining some faceless Dom tying him up and punishing him. Now that Dom had a face, and a lovely one at that, and _oh my god_ , was this actually happening?

“Glad you find the place up to your standards, Cas,” Dean said with a wink that sent a pleasant tingle through his body. He'd never had anyone use ‘Cas’ as a nickname for him, but he had the suspicion it would grow on him.

“Should we get down to business now?” Castiel asked, wanting to get back on track and maintain his composure.

“Well…I was actually thinking probably not. I’d really like to have a feel for who you are and your body language before we get into discussing your limits and expectations. You don’t mind if we have breakfast and get to know each other a little before we bring out the paddles and handcuffs, right?” Dean asked jokingly.

Castiel glanced around worriedly to make sure no one had heard that. “No! No, of course not, I just…you know I’m new to this, and I wasn’t certain how these things typically proceed,” Cas said quietly as a waiter came by and dropped off a pot of coffee and glasses of orange juice.

“I understand, and that’s exactly why I want to start slowly. I also think food is a good way to begin anything, so I hope you don’t mind that I ordered a large breakfast platter for each of us. I wasn’t sure what you like, and I thought ordering something with a little bit of everything would be a safe bet.”

“Yes, I too enjoy food and eating copious amounts of it, and I agree that it would be prudent to eat before discussing any paddlings,” Cas said and then flushed bright red once he realized what had spurted out of his mouth. What the hell was wrong with him? Well, he’d just done a great job of demonstrating his conversational skills to Dean before the food even arrived. 

Dean stared at him in amusement and seemed like he was barely keeping himself from laughing. Wonderful, now Dean had already been given proof that he’s a socially stunted oddball. “Um, I-I didn’t mean that; well, I meant that we should eat before doing anything, but I didn’t intend for that second part-”

“Cas, calm down, it’s fine; I thought that was actually funny. You’re very to-the-point, and I can appreciate that,” Dean said, smiling softly at Cas.

“Oh, well, that’s good to know; I have a tendency to lack a filter and blurt out the first thing that comes to mind. I apologize, but sometimes I have…difficulties determining what’s socially appropriate to say.” That was an understatement.

“That’s no problem. I would say we could work on breaking that habit together in the future, but I think I may like your bluntness,” Dean said, and Castiel wondered what 'working on it' would entail. Dean continued, “And, really, brutal honesty is probably a good thing right now since I’ll need to know what you’re thinking _without_ you trying to sugarcoat for me.”

Their waiter appeared bearing two huge plates each holding a stack of pancakes, a pile of scrambled eggs, strips of bacon, and a large mass of hash browns. “Oh, thank god!” Dean exclaimed to the waiter, who looked startled and then scurried off after setting down the platters. “I'm starving, and I can’t think or speak properly this early until I've shoveled some food into my mouth,” he said and immediately began digging into the pancake tower. Cas privately agreed with him; he wasn't at all a morning person either.

Dean gestured at the plate in front of Castiel. “Go ahead and eat up! If there’s nothing there you like I can get you something else.”

“No, this is excellent, thank you,” Castiel said and began to scoop up some eggs. They ate in silence for several minutes before Cas spoke up. “So, Dean, you said we should get to know each other a little first: what do you do for a living?”

“I’m the co-owner of an auto shop. I set it up with a family friend about seven years ago, and it’s actually been pretty successful. I didn’t know jack shit about managing a business when we first started, but I liked cars and mechanics, so that combined with my friend's operational skills made for a pretty damn good business set-up. It’s long and tiring some days, but I'm happy with it,” Dean said proudly. 

Something about what he’d said made Castiel pause. “Wait, did you say you started a successful business seven years ago? How old are you?” He looked like he couldn’t be too much older than Castiel’s twenty-three, but he couldn’t have begun his own business _that_ young.

Dean answered, “I’m twenty-five, and yes, I was eighteen when we first started out. Like I said, I’ve always loved cars and have been messing around with their innards since I was a kid, and my partner’s a lot older than I am. He already had some business experience running a salvage yard, so he gave us the credibility we needed to start out. Everything just kinda snowballed from there, and now we’re one of the best shops in the area.” 

He must have noticed the dubious look that remained on Castiel’s face, because he added, “I only work for Heavenly Delights on-and-off and even then only part-time, if that’s what you’re wondering.” How strange. People generally couldn’t determine what Castiel was thinking; even Meg, the person who knew him best, said he was too stoic and impossible to read.

“I’m sorry; I swear I’m not trying to pry into your personal life. I was just curious.” Then another thought cropped up: if Dean was only twenty-five, and the email said he’d been a pro-Dom for six years that meant he’d started in this business at nineteen. Castiel didn’t want to be too pushy in asking about Dean’s life, though; it probably wasn’t his place to do that. 

“No need to apologize for being curious. You have the right to ask questions about me. You have to be comfortable with me and trust me for this to work, so ask anything you’d like to know.” He seemed so sincere and warm that Castiel couldn’t help but trust him a little bit. “I want to know something about you, too. What is it that you do, Cas?”

“I’m an accountant. I can’t truthfully say that I love it because it is tedious and dull work, but it is very practical and provides me with a high degree of financial stability,” Cas said, thinking of Anna and how she may depend on that stability in the near future. This line of thought was disrupted by the disgruntled look on Dean’s face. “What’s the matter with that?” asked Castiel defensively.

“Nothing’s _wrong_ with it. I just want to know what it is you would _like_ to do, if you didn’t have to take finances into account?”

What Castiel wanted didn’t matter. “Dean, that really is insignificant-”

“Humor me. I want to know what you like and what interests you, not what you’re stuck doing because you think you have to,” he said imploringly, taking a pause in stuffing food down his throat for the first time since the meal had arrived.

Should Castiel bother telling him this? It’s not like it really mattered to Dean since he was being paid for both his company and services. But Castiel decided that might be the thing that would make him the perfect confidante; he was paying Dean for this, Dean wouldn’t be interacting with anyone close to him, and he definitely wouldn’t care enough to go around sharing Castiel’s feelings with the world.

He had to ponder Dean's question for a moment, however, since he'd long ago given up on working in a field he was passionate about. “Well...I love nature, and I love learning. I think if it were up to me, I would go back to college and major in biology or environmental studies so that I'd have a chance to do work I enjoy. I'm also particularly interested in beekeeping and botany,” Cas said hesitantly, worried that he would be called ridiculous and impractical. 

“That’s what an apiary is, right, like in your email address? Where beekeepers…keep the bees?”

Castiel’s email address was ‘milton-apiary’, but no one ever knew what it meant. “Yes, that’s exactly what it is.” Cas was surprised that Dean had been curious enough to look that up. He was also surprised when he looked down at his plate and saw that most of his meal was gone already. He'd been too nervous prior to meeting Dean to do anything other than chug down coffee, but Dean had somehow managed to put him at ease.

“I guess you liked your breakfast alright?” Dean asked, eyeing how much Cas had eaten.

“Yes, it’s quite delicious. I believe you made an excellent selection.”

“I always make great choices, especially when it comes to food,” Dean said imperiously. “Now, how about you throw me one more bone before we get down to business: what sort of books or music or movies do you like?”

Why did he care what Castiel enjoyed?

He almost asked Dean this but decided to hold back. He supposed it couldn’t hurt for Dean to know more about him. “I’m a fan of classic literature. I particularly enjoy reading about universal human experiences, such as the desire for companionship, or a life spent doing something one loves, along with some of our less positive desires like lust or greed.”

Dean nodded thoughtfully and said, “I haven’t thought about it like that before, but I like reading, too. Who’s one of your favorite authors?”

That was like asking a parent to choose one of her children! “I have many that I enjoy, but one of my favorites is Jane Austen. I know she’s likely not a popular choice for men in their twenties, but she always makes the reader feel so connected to her characters, and even though they’re in completely different circumstances than I’ll ever be in, I always sympathize with and relate to them." He had so much more to say about the subject but realized he’d been rambling in what Meg would call ‘nerd-speak’, so he cut himself off. He felt stupid for boring Dean…except he actually still appeared interested.

“Really? Are you Lizzie Bennet then?” he asked, and Castiel swore he could see a teasing glint in his eyes.

“No, I’m not Elizabeth Bennet. First of all, I would never have the patience to handle Mr. Darcy; I would have sent that assbutt away long before he had the chance to propose. Second, I prefer Anne Elliot.”

“Fair enough,” Dean said, shaking his head and giving Cas a strange look he couldn’t identify. “I don’t know a lot about Austen except that Colin Firth was pretty hot in the Pride and Prejudice movie, but I really do get what you’re saying about how her writing makes you feel. Vonnegut’s my favorite, except with him it’s not so much his characters as it is his writing style,” he said, scraping the last bit of pancakes and maple syrup into his mouth. “Something about the way he strings words together just gets to me, and his books stick with me years after I’ve read them. That’s just my opinion, though, which isn’t really worth much.”

Castiel was caught off guard by the level of care Dean was taking with this; he seemed genuinely interested in what Castiel said, which was shocking since getting to know Castiel was basically his job. He was also surprised by Dean’s easy admission of finding Colin Firth attractive. He knew it wasn't an issue for most people in San Francisco, especially to someone who’s professionally Dommed for men before, but he was always taken aback by other people’s openness with their sexualities when he was so uncomfortable about his own.

He couldn’t verbalize this, though, and simply said, “It’s nice to meet a fellow book-lover. My roommate, Meg, always pokes fun at me for my so-called dorkiness.”

“I’m usually the one who’s doing the mocking. My little brother doesn’t do much other than have his nose in a book, so don’t you tell anyone about this,” Dean said in a faux-threatening tone.

“Is that an order? Sir?” Shit, he shouldn’t have said that; Castiel was certain that had definitely been too bold of him. It was Dean’s fault, though, for having made him so very relaxed over breakfast.

Thankfully, Dean didn’t seem bothered. “It absolutely is,” Dean said, staring directly into Cas’ eyes, and Castiel noticed how truly gorgeous they were. They really weren’t that bright or exotic of a color, but there was a warmth and tenderness they exuded that Castiel found very appealing.

“Since you’re so eager, and I’ve finished enough breakfast so that I can think straight,” Dean said, reaching into a satchel lying beside him on the floor that Cas hadn’t previously noticed, “how about we start talking about our arrangement?”

He pulled a sheaf of papers out of his bag and laid them out on the table in front of Castiel, who caught sight of words like ‘spanking’, ‘ice play’, ‘breath play’, and paragraphs on safewords and discreetness.

 _Holy shit, I’m really doing this_ , Cas thought as a thrill ran up his spine.

“I’m all ears, sir,” he said. He was curious about whether being addressed that way would have any real effect on Dean or if this truly was just a job for him.

That question was answered clearly when he saw Dean staring at him as though he wanted to devour him.

Trying to calm his suddenly rapid heartbeat, Castiel carefully schooled his features into a blank expression and reminded himself to stay cool and relaxed. This was easier said than done when Dean was looking at him like that.

He reminded himself to not get too wrapped up in this and to keep his wits about him. Maybe he should think of something non-arousing, anything other than what Dean may do to him soon. Maybe whatever Gabriel had been doing with those tigers and the chocolate fountain.

Dean shook his head as though coming out of a daze and pressed on before Castiel could speak. “The most important thing to start with is that we need to have a basic knowledge of where we stand with each other. Bad communication can fuck this up royally, so we need to be one-hundred percent clear with one another. Understand, Cas?” 

“I understand, Dean; I had done the appropriate research on this subject before meeting with Crowley, so I do recognize the importance of honesty. I promise I won’t try to hide anything from you,” Cas answered truthfully. Dean nodded and glanced down at the contract before him.

Dean said, “Alright, I believe you, Cas. Now, onto business: Crowley told me that he thought you aren’t looking for a purely sexual thing and that you’re curious about subbing outside of the bedroom. Is this true?”

At this, Castiel felt his cheeks heat. “Yes, that’s correct. I’m not ready to try anything on a 24/7 basis, but…I wouldn’t mind attempting subbing in non-sexual areas.” He said this in a hushed tone while looking around the café once again to ensure no one could overhear them.

“No need to worry, Cas. This is where I always go when I first meet with a potential new sub; there’s no way anyone’s going to hear us,” Dean promised.

“I’ll try to stop worrying about it, but I can’t make any guarantees. I do need one minute to text my roommate and inform her that you haven't murdered me, though,” Cas stated and pulled out his phone. As he texted Meg, Dean sent out a message to someone, too, and Castiel wondered who it was. He hoped it wasn’t someone from Heavenly Delights like Crowley, or anyone else who might think Castiel was pathetic for doing this.

Dean set down his phone and said, "I know you don’t want to try anything too drastic immediately, so what do you think about spending weekends with me at my place to start with, beginning either Friday nights or Saturday mornings, and then we could consider adding on a weeknight if the first weekend goes pretty good?” 

It sounded like a large amount of time to Castiel, but the longer he considered it, the better spending weekends with Dean sounded. “Yes, that would be excellent. However, I’m unavailable Saturday afternoons from noon until six in the evening. I’m also uncertain at the moment which weeknight will work best for me, so I’ll need to look at my calendar before we settle that matter. Is that all acceptable to you?”

“Yeah, of course that’s fine. That block on Saturday when you’re busy is probably for the best actually. It’ll give you a break in the weekend where you can get out of the submissive headspace for several hours, which I think'll be good for you since you’re new to this. It’ll give you fresh air and some space in case you ever feel like you need it,” Dean said and began filling out a slot demarcated as ‘Days/Hours per Week’ on the contract details.

Dean finished filling in the portions of the contract devoted to the amount of time they’d be together each week and looked back up at Castiel with an excited grin. “On to the fun part: what kinks are you interested in exploring, and which ones would you consider to be hard or soft limits?” 

Dammit. Castiel had no idea how to answer that question. He knew theoretically what appealed to him, along with some things he was certain he would _never_ want to do, but he didn’t know how to translate what interested him in videos he’d seen and stories he’d read into real life.

He glared down at the table, feeling insecure and stupid for being so obviously unprepared for this. Dean must have been growing tired of him, because he said, “Uh, Cas? You’ve gotta answer me here.”

“Um, well, it’s just that I don’t know where to begin on that topic,” he admitted unhappily.

“Hey, that’s no problem! How about I read off a list, you can tell me how you feel about each item, and I’ll mark them down as ‘yes’, ‘no’, or ‘maybe’? You’ve gotta be totally honest with me, though, Cas, don’t hold back or be self-conscious,” Dean said.

Cas stopped staring down the table and lifted his head to meet Dean’s eyes. “Alright, Dean. I’m really sorry, but I just don’t quite know what I’m doing-”

“Castiel, seriously, you have nothing to apologize for. Let me take care of you. I promise I won’t let you get hurt and that I won’t judge you for anything you may be into.” Castiel had to be losing his mind because he was half-convinced he caught a glimpse of desire in Dean’s eyes, and the thought that Dean may actually _want_ him sent blood rushing directly to his dick.

He quickly imagined Gabe and those twins he claimed rode him into the sunset and found that Gabriel was an extremely effective boner killer.

Dean said, “Before we start going down the list, I want you to remember it isn’t, like, a complete directory of kinks. A list of everything we could do would be as long as the entire Lord of the Rings trilogy. This list is just of major categories, but if there’s something that’s not on here that you’d like to try, I’m up for discussing it. We good?” Cas nodded his assent, and Dean continued. “Okay, Cas, let’s get going: age play?”

“Maybe…that’s something I’d need to know more specifics about when the time comes,” he said hesitantly. 

“Okay,” Dean said, and Castiel saw him mark ‘age play’ down as a soft limit. “How about role play in general? We could work out the details of a particular scene if you ever decide you want to try it.”

“Yes, I’m definitely up for that.” In his various readings, he’d come across so many different scenarios that were intriguing, and now that he had a partner that he was starting to feel comfortable with? He was game. 

“’Kay. How about the use of bondage and restraints?”

“Yes,” Cas said immediately and then cursed himself for answering so quickly and enthusiastically. Physical bondage was always a central theme in his fantasies, something he was looking forward to the most, and he could tell Dean had just realized this, judging by the look he gave Castiel and the star he drew next to the words ‘physical restraints’ on the contract. 

They made their way through the list of hard and soft limits in that fashion, with Dean always patiently explaining items Castiel had questions about, like how he would use his safeword if he was gagged or how they could potentially do safe breath play. Castiel also noticed that Dean seemed to find him amusing; he made several comments that had Dean stifling laughter and shaking his head fondly at Castiel (“How about using hot wax?” “As long as you’re very careful and don’t burn my genitals.”) Whatever it was Dean was laughing about, though, Castiel decided that smile was something he’d never tire of seeing. 

The only small hiccup came when they arrived at the final item on the list. 

Dean had already marked all of Castiel’s other answers down and said, “We’re almost finished here, Cas. We’re on the last one: impact play?”

Castiel shifted nervously in his seat. “Please define exactly what you mean by ‘impact play.’”

“It can involve a variety of things. The most common is probably spanking, but there’s also caning, whipping, flogging, and a lot of others. What do you say, Cas?” Dean asked. As he spoke, Castiel _knew_ he was flushing bright red again and cast his gaze around in an attempt to look anywhere except at Dean.

“Um, yes, I- I suppose I would not be entirely opposed to that sort of activity,” Cas said, still refusing to meet Dean’s eyes. That was an understatement on the level of describing the Hindenburg as a tiny accident or calling Republicans a little old-fashioned.

“Castiel,” Dean commanded, “look at me.”

He obeyed without hesitation, turning to meet Dean head-on, and, right then, Castiel wanted to always be the one responsible for that look in Dean’s eyes: bright and excited, with that lovely green eclipsed by hugely dilated pupils. 

Dean spoke softly, saying “You said you ‘wouldn’t be entirely opposed’? To which part exactly, Cas? The caning? Or maybe the spanking?” Castiel choked on the gulp of orange juice he’d just taken as Dean said the word ‘spanking’. Once he’d caught his breath, he became aware of the smug satisfaction on Dean’s face. Bastard. 

“Well, um- I believe the…the spanking may be a good place to start, if we’re going to do that sort of…play,” Cas stammered out. “I’m not entirely certain about the others, however; isn’t caning in particular on the higher end of the pain spectrum?”

Dean nodded seriously, all-business now that Castiel had a question. “That’s true; it’s generally used for harsher punishments or for people who really get something out of pain. I’ll put that down as a soft limit we can think about later, and correct me if I’m misreading this, but we can safely put down spanking as a ‘yes’, right?” _Oh, hell yes,_ Castiel thought, already imagining himself laid out over Dean’s knees or across the bed with his ass canted up in the air, awaiting whatever punishments was to come.

 _Keep calm. Wait until this meeting’s over before you start entertaining those thoughts._ Once he was certain he wouldn’t say something humiliating, he said, “Yes, that would be acceptable, Dean.” 

Grinning slightly, Dean said, “That brings us to the end of our list, Cas. I did skip a couple items, though, things that are hard limits of mine.”

Huh. Castiel had forgotten that Doms had limits, too. From how Dean had behaved so far, Castiel couldn’t imagine that there was much he’d be unwilling to do, but Cas knew he’d respect whatever Dean said regardless.

“For personal reasons, I won’t do medical scenes. I’ll talk about any of my other limits with you if you have questions about them but not that one. It’s a non-negotiable hard limit for me. If that’s something you were interested in, I’m sorry, but we’ll have to find someone else to do it with you,” Dean said. He appeared more hardened and tense than he’d been all morning and Castiel couldn’t help but wonder _why_. 

Castiel knew better than to pry, though. “We won’t have to look for anyone else. That wasn’t an item I wanted to try anyway.”

Dean’s posture relaxed, and he let out an audible sigh of relief. “The only other things I absolutely won’t do are anything involving scat or serious danger, like fire play or blood play. I also won’t leave any permanent physical markings on you in any form.”

“Okay, Dean. It actually makes me feel better, hearing your limits; it makes me feel less…vulnerable.” It was comforting in an unexpected way, knowing that Dean wasn’t some sex god who was completely fearless and ready for anything, anytime.

“That’s great, Cas,” Dean said encouragingly. “That’s the goal here; you need to be comfortable with me for this to work well.”

“I know. You’ve made me feel very safe so far. Thank you for that.” He didn’t know how Dean had achieved it, but over the course of the past hour, he had helped Castiel be at ease discussing everything from nipple clamps to caning. Maybe Dean had a soothing effect on everyone he met. 

Blushing slightly, Dean said, “Now that you’ve given me an idea of what you’d like to do, we’ve got to get some basic safety issues down. Do you know how to use a safeword?”

“I do. I call it out whenever a scene gets too intense, and I really need things to stop, so that you’ll know I’m not struggling and protesting as part of the scene,” Cas stated confidently. If there was one thing he had done plenty of research on, it was safety.

“You got it, Cas. Have any ideas about what you’d like yours to be? Or would you rather stick with the red/yellow/green system?”

“I did have a word in mind. Is honeybee alright with you?” Cas said tentatively.

“’Course it is. You can use any word you’d like, as long as it’s something you can remember whenever you need it. I’m guessing that’ll be an easy one for you to keep in mind since you love your bees so much, right?” 

“Yes, I’m certain that I’ll be able to think of that word easily, even under…special circumstances.” Not only would he be able to remember it, he also hoped that maybe it would help him step out of the ‘subspace’ he’d read about. He thought that having one of his favorite subjects brought to mind would help him feel like himself again if he needed to come out of a scene quickly.

Dean flipped the contract over, turning to a page devoted to safety and consent and began filling it out. “’Kay, I’ve got your safeword down. How do you want to approach this? Were you wanting to start off subbing in the bedroom only and gradually building-up from that, or do you think you’re ready to be my sub during all the times you’re with me?” 

“To be perfectly honest, I’d like to try subbing the entire time I’m with you,” Cas said, praying that he wouldn’t regret that choice. “I know I may not be very good at it at first, but this is something I’ve thought about for a long while now. I want to seize this opportunity while I can and be able to let go for once.”

Right now, Castiel wanted nothing more than for Dean to be the one he was able to let go with, to be the person who allowed him to come undone and then carefully pieced him back together again.

Dean gaped at him for several long seconds before speaking. “Cas…I’ll try to do that for you, um, you know, let you 'let it go' as you said,” Dean spluttered, which Castiel couldn’t help but find endearing. 

He’d had this image built up in his head of the cold, forceful, perfectly controlled Dominant with no cracks in his armor. While he’d always found that ideal attractive, surprisingly, he was discovering he enjoyed Dean even more. He was just so… human, and Cas _liked_ it.

Dean soon got himself back under control and said, “Okay, Cas, since that’s what you’d like to try, I have a set of rules for my subs to follow while we’re together. Do you want to hear them now and see if anything needs to be negotiated, or do you wanna hear’em when you come to my house for the first time?”

“Can you give me the most important ones now, and then we can work out the details tonight at your place?”

“Tonight? You want to start today?” That promptly crushed Castiel’s confidence. Maybe he’d misread Dean’s fondness. It certainly wouldn’t be the first time he’d interpreted someone incorrectly.

Dean must have noticed his sudden upset, because he hurriedly added, “Hey, no, don’t you start feeling bad about yourself! I’m good with starting tonight, hell, that’s what I want, but I wasn’t sure if you’d be ready for that.”

Castiel truly hoped Dean meant that and wasn’t just attempting to spare his feelings (or protect his own paycheck). “I’m certainly ready to begin. As long as you’re positive it’s alright with you, I’d be very pleased to progress with this tonight.”

“It’s definitely good with me. I’m happy to have you,” Dean said earnestly. “Well, since you’re coming over tonight, how about you let me make you dinner, and I can tell you the rules I like to use then?” 

Dean could cook? “Yes, that sounds perfect, Dean,” Cas answered, somewhat taken aback. While Castiel didn’t know how to cook, and didn’t have any particular interest in learning, he’d half-expected his Dom would assign him the task of cooking based on what he’d read on various websites. 

Dean just flashed Castiel a bright smile and looked back down at the contract. Castiel could tell he was skimming through it, likely checking to make sure it was completed properly. Once he was done, he turned back to Castiel. “That was the last part we needed to go over now. Do you want to read through everything I wrote down and make sure you agree with it all?”

“I would indeed.” Cas took the papers out of Dean’s hands and began reading through them. He already had more faith in Dean than he’d ever have in Crowley, but he still combed through the entire contract carefully, word for word. 

This was it; he was _finally_ doing this. It was something he’d been wondering about for years, and now he was actually going to fulfill his fantasies. He reminded himself that this was the safest environment for acting out his desires that he’d ever have and that Dean had been nothing but kind and patient and gentle. If there was anybody he could trust with this, it would be Dean. And most importantly, no one had to know. Not Meg, not Gabriel, not Naomi, _nobody_. He could work through this, get it out of his system, and move on from his freaky little daydreams.

His thoughts were interrupted by Dean. “Cas, just to make sure we’re on the same page here: that contract is just an agreement saying that you won’t disclose any information about Heavenly Delights and their part in setting up our arrangement. You know it wouldn’t be too good for their ‘we’ll get your daughter sold-out Taylor Swift tickets’ side of the business if this sort of thing became public knowledge. It’s for the company’s legal protection, too, so that there’s written proof that you’ve agreed to everything we do and that it’s all consensual.” 

Castiel hated having Dean explain this to him. He’d felt like they’d developed an easy rapport over breakfast and having to discuss legal issues made everything seem much less authentic and natural. Nevertheless, he did realize why it was necessary. “I understand, Dean; you need to protect yourself and the company from being sued by an unsatisfied or dishonest client,” Cas said as he signed the forms, but he privately thought Dean seemed unhappy now, too.

But, he was positive that Dean was used to this part of negotiations since he’d had previous clients and would certainly have new subs in the future. It was a part of doing business, and Castiel would have to get with the program, too. 

Dean accepted the signed papers that Castiel handed back to him and said, “We’re ready to go now, Cas. All that’s left now is for you to tell me when you can be at my place tonight.”

“I can be there by seven, if that would be satisfactory for you.” That would give him an hour to get to his apartment from the animal shelter he volunteered at, shower, select some decent clothing, and make his way to wherever Dean lived.

“That’ll be great, Cas,” Dean said, gathering his bag together and standing.

Apparently, Dean didn’t want to stick around and talk with him anymore. “Oh, are we leaving right now?” He hoped that his disappointment wasn’t too obvious. If Dean could stay detached, Castiel would have to learn to do so as well.

Dean glanced around the café shiftily. “Um, well, I kind of have to go to the auto shop I told you about and get some work done there- that is if you’re okay with everything the way it is. If you want to talk more or make any edits to the contract-”

“No, I’m very pleased with what we have now,” he interrupted and followed Dean as he started to walk back towards the café’s front entrance. He would push Dean and his stupidly green eyes and his ridiculous-looking freckles out of his thoughts and proceed with his afternoon as usual. 

He would volunteer at the shelter as he did every Saturday, he would take excellent care of the animals in his charge, and he’d forcibly eject every idea of what he’d be doing with Dean tonight out of his head.

When they stepped outside and onto the sidewalk, Dean said, “So, how about we exchange phone numbers? It’ll be easier to communicate that way instead of using email, and I’ll need to send you directions to my place for tonight.”

Cas agreed, and after exchanging numbers, Dean kept following Castiel out to his car. Castiel wasn’t sure why; maybe it was merely common courtesy, or perhaps Dean wanted to demonstrate some extra kindness for the man he’d be tying up and fucking in the near future.

Dean stopped in his tracks, though, when Castiel strode up to his huge, boxy, semi-deteriorated Lincoln Continental. “Whoa, buddy, do you have a pimping business on the side to supplement all of your accountant money?” 

“Why does everyone insist that this is a ‘pimp car’?" he asked, totally mystified at the disrespect his car always received. "It’s functional and large enough to provide me with a high degree of safety,” he said defensively.

“Are you sure? I mean, how old is this? Don’t get me wrong, I love a classic more than anything, but you’ve gotta take care of it, make sure it’s safe and road-worthy. I’d love to fix it up properly for you at some point.” Right. Dean had an auto shop; of course he’d want to work on Castiel’s car. It was a classic, even though Castiel had discovered it in a salvage yard and had to beg the cheapest mechanic he could find to fix it for him at a reduced price.

He did love his car, though, and wouldn’t stand for it being insulted. “I do take care of it; it’s in perfectly decent condition! And remember, we haven’t started this yet, so you don’t get to criticize my car yet. If you’ve got something to say, save it for later tonight,” Cas informed him imperiously.

“Oh, believe me Cas, I’ve got loads of plans in mind for you tonight,” Dean said teasingly, staring Cas down. Castiel was certain that he didn’t successfully hide from Dean how flustered and ruffled he was, but he maintained eye contact as he opened his car door and sat down.

“Trust me, I’m ready for you, Dean.” Maybe. Probably not, but maybe. “I’ll see you tonight, sir!” He was rewarded when he pulled out of his parking space and checked the rearview mirror; Dean was rooted to the same spot Castiel had left him in. 

Castiel smiled proudly to himself, happy that he had successfully navigated the contract negotiation and that Dean was someone he could be at ease with. 

As he drove away, he found himself thinking something he never had before: _Thank god for Gabriel and his pimping business._


	3. Chapter 3

“Darcy, you be a good boy and get in your bed for me, okay?” Castiel pleaded, trying to cajole the tiny white kitten into his cage. Once inside, he stared sadly up at Castiel, as if he was saying, _Take me home. Meg and your apartment tenant will never notice._

Castiel always detested having to send the animals back to their crates (tiny jail cells) at the end of the day, but he had to agree with the rules of the animal shelter that it would probably be imprudent to let them roam freely. It was just so _hard_ to cage the little fur babies that he loved so much; he’d be the first to admit that he often liked them better than most humans.

After placing the kittens he was caring for that afternoon back in their prisons and making sure they each had blankets (the shelter may be cold at night), he took a head-count to make sure no one was missing and entered the lobby to sign-out for the day.

“Hannah? I’m leaving now if you don’t need any more help,” he told his co-volunteer, who was fielding phone calls from people who may want to adopt a pet, and logged himself out of the volunteer’s sign-in system.

“You can leave; I’ll finish closing and lock-up for the day. Are you excited about your date, Castiel?” she asked politely.

“Oh, yes, I’m very hopeful about it,” Cas yelled over his shoulder as he exited the shelter, praying he came across as nonchalant when on the inside his stomach was roiling and twisting itself into knots. He wouldn't have mentioned his 'date' to her, but she had noticed how he was continuously glancing at the clock all afternoon and asked him what was going on, so he decided to keep his excuses consistent by telling her the same one he gave Meg that morning. Thankfully, Hannah hadn’t shared Meg’s enthusiasm or desire to dress him up (“I met a man on OkCupid, and we’re going on a date tonight.” “That’s fascinating, Castiel. Go clean the litterboxes.”).

Throughout the ride home, Castiel made a valiant effort to soothe his nerves. He forced himself to remember how nice Dean had been. In fact, Castiel probably liked him much more than he should since he was paying Dean to be with him. This was safe, there was no chance that he’s a serial killer, everything was confidential, and Dean wasn’t going to be judging him.

He managed to ease his mind somewhat by the time he arrived back at his apartment. Thankfully, Meg was working the night shift at the psych facility, and he’d already given her a plausible explanation (he was spending the rest of the weekend with Gabe to sort out a private family issue) for why he’d be absent when she came back Sunday morning.

After showering to rid himself of the pervasive animal-scent he carried after spending an afternoon at the shelter, he briefly attempted to select a special outfit and tame his hair. He gave up on either of those quickly, however, and settled on a simple white button-down with black slacks and prayed that Dean wouldn’t be bothered by his permanently messy hair. 

He was at a loss when it came to packing for the night and the next day; would he be expected to wear anything in particular? Or nothing at all? He knew it shouldn't, but the thought of being naked around Dean sent a pleasant shiver down his spine. It was probably best to bring clothing anyway, though, so he ended up tossing sweatpants, jeans, and a t-shirt, along with another button-down, into his overnight bag before leaving.

Castiel hopped back into his Lincoln and sped towards one of San Francisco’s ritzier neighborhoods, following the directions Dean had texted him until he arrived at a townhouse that was…not at all what he had anticipated.

His auto shop must have been even more successful than he let on. Castiel took in the three-story townhouse in front of him and imagined this home must cost at least four times the monthly rent of his and Meg’s cramped apartment. He hefted his overnight bag over his shoulder, walked up to an empty porch, and rang the doorbell, heart thudding in his chest almost painfully.

Dean came to the door immediately and flung it wide open. “Hey, Cas! Glad to see you again,” he said with a welcoming smile, taking Castiel's bag from him and motioning for Cas to follow him inside. He sucked in a deep breath at the sight of Dean wearing a white t-shirt and jeans, and really, what was wrong with him? He'd never been so affected by a man's looks before. 

He tried not to stare at Dean as he was led through the house, opting instead to observe where he’d be living over the weekends. The house was sparsely decorated and had an open layout; from the foyer, Castiel could see a spacious living room to his left, a dining room to the right, and a staircase facing the front entrance. Dean led him straight ahead and into a large kitchen with massive stainless steel appliances.

Dean stopped before a little two-person table in the breakfast nook off to the side of the kitchen. “I made us spaghetti for dinner. I hope you like it, but if it sucks I can order something else.”

“I’m sure it’ll be great, Dean; I appreciate you cooking,” Castiel said and pulled out a chair when Dean gestured for him to sit down.

Dean promptly served their dinner with a bottle of red wine as soon as Castiel sat down. Cas took a tentative bite of the pasta, which was absolutely delicious, and dug in.

After a couple minutes of eating quietly, Dean spoke up. “Are you up for talking about the rules now, or do you want to eat in peace first?” 

“I’d like to hear them now.” Castiel, though he was anxious as hell, was eager to start. Thinking about what was to come had had him nursing an erection all afternoon, and he was prepared to let Dean take the reins. Cas wouldn’t have believed it a day ago, but he had faith that Dean wouldn’t hurt him (well, in any way he didn’t want).

“It’s all pretty basic. I think that soon you’ll agree I’m not a terribly demanding Dom, and I’ll reward you for obeying the rules. The first is that you have to allow me to take care of you. As your Dom, it’s my responsibility to make sure your needs are met and that you’re safe. But, I can’t do that without your cooperation, meaning you have to be open with me at all times. If you’re not feeling good, or if you’re uncomfortable with something, _anything_ , you need to tell me immediately. I’ll never be angry if you tell me something’s wrong, but failure to do so will result in punishment, which may involve anything you didn't list as one of your limits. How are we doing so far?” Dean asked.

“That sounds very reasonable to me. I feel excellent about that,” Cas said, and was even more excited about it than he let on. What Dean had described was what Castiel had long-fantasized about, almost as much as the sexual aspects: that surrender of power, the opportunity to be cherished and cared for. Sure, the caring and cherishing would be simulated since this wasn’t a 'real' D/s relationship and Dean was being paid for his services, but Cas couldn’t help but be thrilled about the upcoming power play.

Dean peered closely at him before continuing, and Castiel had the sense he could see right through him. “Next rule is that you have to work to maintain your health as much as possible. I expect you to get seven hours of sleep per night as a minimum and to eat three reasonably healthy meals daily. You can’t scene safely if you’re too tired or hungry. I won’t be able to watch you constantly, however, so it'll be up to you to decide whether to obey me and honor those rules. Is this still alright with you, Cas?”

“Absolutely,” he said, feeling increasingly exhilarated as Dean continued. He didn't voice the fact that he'd likely struggle to follow those rules. He had the tendency to become bogged down with work and skip meals or sleep only several hours per night. He’d just have to put extra effort into it.

“Next: lies are unacceptable in any circumstance. You absolutely have to be completely honest with me, Castiel. I’ll never try to force you to tell me anything, but if you ever feel like you have to lie to me in the first place, that’s a sign that something’s not right and that we need to talk it through together or re-negotiate the terms of our relationship. Because this is so important, any deviance, and I will punish you harshly. Still doing okay?” Castiel noticed Dean’s pupils were dilating and his cheeks reddening; a little rush of pleasure flew through him when he realized he wasn’t the only one affected by this.

“Yes,” Cas breathed out; he was much better than merely 'okay.' “Please continue.”

“This is the last one for now: I’ll expect you to call me ‘sir’ throughout our time together whenever we’re here. It's shows respect and will help us both stay in the right headspace. Clear?”

Castiel nodded with his mouth full of pasta; he wasn’t sure he could be trusted to speak at the moment. Dean continued, “These rules are, as always, something you can safeword out of. If you can’t continue with them, you call out your safeword just like you would during any other scene. Finally, these rules aren’t set in stone. If something’s not working for us, they can be modified. Rules can be added, too, if we decide there’s anything we’d like to work on together. Still feeling good about all of this, Cas?”

‘Good’ was putting it mildly. “Yes, definitely, Dean.” Damn, hopefully he didn’t sound too desperate.

Dean didn’t seem to think so, judging from the kind, warm way look he gave Cas. “I have one last question for you before we start: are there any areas on your body that are off limits for me to touch?”

Did that mean they would be having sex tonight? Fuck, was he ready for that? He decided to trust Dean, though, and answered, “No, sir.” He was uncertain if he was meant to begin addressing Dean in that fashion at the moment. 

Dean seemed pleased, though, and said, “I’ll take that as my signal that you’re ready to start. Repeat your safeword for me?”

“Honeybee.”

“Good boy. I may ask you that periodically throughout our first scene to make sure you’re fully aware of what’s happening and that you’re doing well. As soon as you finish eating, I want you to walk up the set of stairs that's facing the front entrance, and then enter the first room on the left. Take a couple minutes to do whatever you need to relax, and then strip, set your clothes in a neat pile near the room's entrance, and kneel down facing the door. I'll follow you up ten minutes afterwards. Can you do that for me, Castiel?” 

Castiel was stunned at how Dean shifted seamlessly into a commanding Dom from the gentle, patient man he’d met this morning. Cas’s next words came out his mouth more naturally than he would have ever guessed. “Yes, sir,” Castiel said and was struck by the lingering tenderness and care in Dean’s eyes. _I’m ready for this. I want this, and I can do it_ , Castiel thought to himself in an attempt to bolster his nerves. His whole body was pulsing with eagerness at this point, and he was sure he couldn’t stand to eat a single bite more, so he pushed away from the table and quickly proceeded up the staircase.

After making it upstairs and glancing down the long hallway he was faced with, he entered the room Dean had instructed him to. He discovered that it was a dimly-lit bedroom with a massive bed, a large black chest in the corner, a soft rug covering most of the wooden floor, and a ceiling light that cast a soft golden glow over the room.

_Breathe in… breathe out. You can do this. You trusted Dean when you met him, and there’s no reason not to now. He’s not going to judge you, and no one else has to know about this. You’re safe and can let yourself go._

Once he’d quieted the buzz of anxiety in his mind, he stripped off his clothes, folding them carefully and setting them beside the door, and was sure his body was on fire. Being entirely naked and vulnerable in the home of a man he’d just met that morning…a man who was now his Dom...it was both the most arousing and terrifying thing he had ever experienced.

He situated himself in the submissive kneeling position he’d read about online: torso perpendicular to the floor, knees spread, thighs resting on his calves, and wrists crossed behind his back. Arranging himself in such an exposed way made his blood pound harshly throughout his body and fill his cock, and he was positive he’d combust if Dean didn’t come up soon.

He heard footsteps approaching the bedroom and was so, so beyond yearning for this.


	4. Chapter 4

Castiel didn’t dare look up from the floor when he heard Dean enter the bedroom and pause, standing directly in front of him. All he could see from his vantage point where he knelt on the ground was a pair of bare feet, and his breath caught in his throat as he silently awaited Dean’s next move.

“Good boy,” Dean said, and a jolt of pride went through Castiel at those words. Dean crouched next to him, and he sucked in a sharp breath as Dean began stroking calloused fingers up and down his spine.

“I’m going to get everything ready that we’ll need for this evening; while I do that, you are not to move from this position, and you are to keep your eyes directed to the ground. Can do that for me, Castiel?” Dean asked him softly.

Castiel thought he’d do just about anything for Dean as long as he kept running his fingers up and down his back, making little lightning bolts shoot throughout his body. He nodded and, praying his voice wasn’t shaking too badly, said, “Yes, sir.”

Dean brushed one final time down his back before rising and walking in the direction of the chest Castiel had noticed earlier.

He heard Dean rustling about inside the box and laying several items out on the bed, but he followed his orders and never once turned to look, no matter how desperately curious he was. After a minute, he heard Dean come to a standstill. Castiel was ready to follow his next instructions, but none seemed to be forthcoming. Instead, he felt Dean’s eyes trained on him as he began pacing in a slow, measured circle around Castiel’s body.

Castiel wondered nervously if he was being inspected for some reason or if he had done something wrong. He started to feel an ache in his thighs from kneeling, and his cock began perking up even higher, begging for attention and straining from anticipation. He was left in this state for what felt like hours but what could have only been a couple minutes before Dean spoke to him again.

“Castiel, I want you to stand up slowly. Be careful; you may be a little weak after kneeling for a while.” Cas was glad for this advice; even taking his time, he almost tipped over, though that may have had something to do with his blood beginning to pool heavily in his dick.

He kept his eyes averted from Dean’s and resisted the temptation to peek at what was on the bed as Dean issued his next orders. “Lie down on the bed on your back, and lift your arms above your head,” he commanded.

Castiel followed these instructions as his heart tried to escape from his rib cage because, _shit_ , he’d never even been in another man’s bed before, let alone naked and entirely vulnerable in the bed of a man like Dean, who was watching him impassively. He clambered up onto the bed, taking note of the sets of leather cuffs attached to the wrought-iron headboard and footboard, and laid down with his head on a pillow facing the ceiling. A twinge of pleasure floated through him at the sensation of cool, silk sheets against his flushed back and ass.

He lifted his arms up over his head and set them down on either side of the pillow. Dean came up beside him and gently took hold of his wrists, saying, “Castiel, I want you to tell me your safeword one last time.”

“Honeybee, sir,” he answered breathlessly.

“And you’ll use it if you’re ever scared or uncomfortable in any way?” Dean asked as he lightly stroked Castiel’s wrists with his thumbs.

“Yes, sir,” Castiel said, trying to get his breathing under control.

“Good boy,” he praised and began locking the leather handcuffs around Castiel’s wrists. Once he finished, Castiel felt a tug as Dean pulled on the chain attaching the cuffs to the headboard. Cas assumed he was making sure they were tight enough and that he couldn’t worm out of them. After Dean left his side and went to the foot of the bed, binding his ankles in the same fashion, Castiel decided to pull on the cuffs himself, and sure enough, though the leather was soft, he certainly wasn’t going to be wiggling out of them anytime soon. That sense of being unable to escape, and the knowledge that Dean could do whatever he wished to him and he would just have to lie back and take it made his cock twitch eagerly, and he barely held back a moan.

“Castiel, I’m not going to blindfold you tonight, but I want you to close your eyes and keep them shut for me until I say otherwise,” Dean said. “You need to be able to let go of your control and trust that I won’t hurt you. Do you think you can do that, Castiel?”

“Yes, sir,” he promised, shutting his eyes immediately and jumping slightly as Dean began running something soft and fringed over the length of his left bicep. He had faith that Dean wouldn’t hurt him, but he couldn’t stop his breathing from picking up its pace.

“It’s okay; I’ve got you,” Dean murmured. He continued trailing that almost-feathery something up and down the entirety of Castiel’s arm before shifting to drag it across his collarbones and give the same treatment to the other arm. Castiel realized it was a flogger as his critical thinking abilities made one final stand before drifting off. The slight, nearly tickling touch of the flogger simultaneously soothed his nerves and maintained his state of arousal, slowly feeding the feeling of pure want that was gathering low in his stomach.

Once Castiel’s breathing relaxed, Dean began tracing the flogger across his chest and stomach, paying extra attention to his nipples. They were more sensitive than Cas would have guessed, and every time Dean swept over them, he couldn't stop himself from jolting against the restraints and gasping, which he was positive Dean noticed. He completed a circuit several times over Cas’s entire torso and up to his neck and in the process alerted Castiel to sensitive spots he never knew he had, like his collarbones and the sides of his neck.

He was proud that he had managed to keep his eyes closed to that point, but he could feel his resolve weakening when Dean started to concentrate on his nipples. After brushing over them until they were hard and pebbled and Castiel was panting, he set down the flogger and put his hands to work, beginning with gentle strokes of those rough fingers. The new sensation tore a soft, aching groan from Cas’s throat.

A vague sense of embarrassment washed over him at the sound, but that quickly passed as Dean continued his ministrations and told him, “Good boy; I don’t want you to keep any moans, any sighs, or any whimpers locked inside tonight. I want to hear you scream for me when I make you come harder than you ever have before.”

Cas let another short moan out as Dean spoke and began using more pressure, rubbing and tweaking along both the stiffened centers and the areolas. Castiel was startled at the high-pitched, keening whimpers that left his throat, but he forced himself to remember that his Dom wanted to hear everything and stopped worrying about holding himself back.

“I do wonder what you’ll sound like, what you’ll look like when you come for me, Castiel,” he said, nearly growling, and gave Cas’ nipples one final pinch that went straight down to his cock.

“Maybe you’re not much of a screamer?” Dean wondered aloud as Cas heard him take the flogger back into his hands and move downwards alongside Castiel’s body, letting the strands of the toy trail their tips over his skin and leave little flickers of fire in their wake. Castiel was beginning to get used to his lack of eyesight and the unpredictability of what Dean would do to him, but he couldn’t prevent himself from listening and trying to guess what Dean would do next.

 _Fuck!_ The question was answered for him when he felt the soft suede tendrils dance up the underside of his shaft, which was already rock-hard and oversensitive from the treatment his nipples had been given and the sense of vulnerability he was experiencing. He realized that from his new position, Dean could see everything, including Castiel's hole that was grasping futilely at the air. For the first time in his life, he needed to be _filled_ , and what he wanted was Dean's cock inside him.

He was panting and moaning loudly, and the light, teasing touch of the flogger that was now caressing his balls and the base of his cock was becoming overwhelming. 

“Maybe instead of shouting when you come tonight, you’ll be so spent you can only sob in relief,” he said, drawing the flogger around the head of Cas’ cock and across his slit. “That would sure be pretty, too, wouldn’t it? But, I have to say, I can’t think of anything hotter than you calling out for me, all tied up like this, showing me know how much pleasure I’ve given you, with those pretty pink lips crying out for me. I do have a request, though, Castiel: when you come, I want you to pop those gorgeous blue eyes wide open.”

“Y-yes, sir, I will, promise.” Castiel had a dim sense of pride that he was able to sputter that out, considering the way he was writhing and whimpering in the sheets, making a sweaty mess out of them.

“Good. It’d be a damn tragedy to miss the look in your eyes when I see you come for the first time.” Castiel heard him set the flogger down on the floor, and then Dean suddenly wrapped a large, warm hand around Castiel’s hard cock and squeezed.

“Oh-oh, oh my god, Dean,” Castiel moaned through his clenched teeth as he felt heat burning and building at the base of his spine, and then yelped when he received a sharp, open-handed smack to the inside of his thigh.

“You’ve been so damn good for me, keeping your eyes closed and trusting me to take care of you, but that doesn’t mean the rest of the rules just disappear. Now what is it you’re supposed to call me, Castiel?”

Cas pulled hard against the cuffs as Dean kneaded his balls. “Sir, I-I’m sorry, sir!”

“Good boy,” he said, pulling on Castiel’s shaft once more, running his thumb over the slit and the pre-come that was leaking out, and just as Cas began to feel that sweet, fucking amazing heat start to reach its peak, Dean stopped, removing his hands entirely from Cas’ body. Castiel responded with a loud whine and was ready to beg, but Dean spoke before he could.

“Castiel, I don’t want you coming quite yet. I know it’s hard, but I promise it'll be even sweeter for you if you hold on until I give you permission. What do you say, Castiel?”

“Yes, sir, I won’t come, not until you tell me to,” he promised shakily; he would have vowed anything at the moment, would have bargained away his whole apartment, Meg included, as long as Dean put his hands back and relieved the excruciating, wonderful pressure in his groin.

“Good, ‘cause I’m not exactly in a big hurry for us to be done here,” he said with a small chuckle, and Cas felt the bed sink inwards as Dean crawled up onto it. “I love having you like this…struggling, wiggling around on my bed, fuckin’ yearning for me to let you come.” He gently lifted both of Cas’ ankles that were bound to the footboard and spread his legs further apart, giving himself enough space to move higher up Cas’s body until he was nestled between his thighs.

He rubbed his rough palms up and down Castiel’s inner thighs and leaned down to whisper in his ear, “I won’t be allowing you to come until you’re begging, and you’re desperate for me. I don’t plan to push you too far tonight, Castiel, but that doesn’t mean I’ll go easy on you. And do you know why I’m doing this?”

Castiel was sure that the way Dean was fondling his balls with one hand and tracing his rim with the other would cause him to lose his mind, so he was only able to choke out, “No, sir, why?”

As he spoke, his lips tickled Castiel’s ear and made his whole body tingle. “Because I have faith in you. You’ve been so eager and good for me ever since we met, so I know you can do this,” he said confidently before sitting back upright, and then placed a finger on Castiel’s parted lips.

“Suck it, Castiel,” he commanded and continued to tease around his rim with the other hand, which made him huff out another sharp groan. 

Cas instantly obeyed Dean’s order, taking the entire length of his finger into his mouth and swirling his tongue around it. How the hell was it so arousing just to suck on his Dom’s finger like this? He wasn’t sure, but within seconds he was imagining that it was Dean’s cock pressing down his throat, that he was kneeling in front of him, this time with his eyes fully open so that he could watch the pride on his Dom’s face as he fucked into Castiel’s mouth…

He still hadn’t opened his eyes, however, not a single time since Dean had demanded he shut them. He wanted so badly to see Dean’s face, craved the knowledge that he was receiving pleasure from this, too, but he wanted even more to be a good sub for Dean, to follow his orders and to make him happy.

After sucking on his finger until it was soaking wet, Dean pulled it out of his mouth and set it on Cas’ rim, applying only a light pressure.

“Castiel? Do you want this?” He asked in a teasingly. _Bastard_ , Castiel thought dizzily.

“Yes, sir, yes, please fuck me-”

“I won’t be doing that tonight, Castiel, at least not in the way you might have thought. I want to take my time learning your body and how it responds to my touch before I really claim your ass, so for now you’re going to have to be satisfied with me fucking you with my fingers." He took on that taunting tone again and continued, "Is that okay, Castiel? I could always stop if you’d rather I not-”

“No, sir, please, anything, just fill me up…” He trailed off, babbling incoherently.

He must have said the magic words because as soon as he got those words out of his mouth, he felt Dean’s spit-slick finger enter him.

“More, _please_!” Having something inside him felt fucking amazing even though it was weird, but one finger wasn’t enough. If Dean refused to fill him with his cock, he’d have to give him at least something more, because he wasn’t sure he could handle it if Dean left him in this state much longer.

“Be patient, I just have to find the right-” he paused mid-sentence as Cas let out a piercing, animalistic wail when Dean found and pressed hard directly on his prostate. “-spot.”

No one had ever touched him there before, and that included himself. He had always been too self-conscious, too ashamed to put anything up his own ass, so he had no idea it would be so goddamn heavenly.

He was faintly aware that he was a thrashing, gasping mess, but he was far beyond even thinking about being embarrassed or trying to restrain himself. All he could do was ride this out and pray that Dean would choose to be merciful soon.

Dean, within seconds, pushed another finger inside him, and then another. There was a slight burn, even though Dean’s fingers were slick, but it was a _good_ burn. He wasn’t certain how just being fingered was making him so needy, but he absolutely didn’t care and may not care about anything ever again, so long as Dean continued massaging against his prostate with three fingers and rubbing from the head of his shaft down to his balls with the hand that wasn’t probing his ass.

When he started to feel a nearly painful tightening in his lower belly and the heat coursing throughout his body beginning to reach its crescendo, he knew it was time to truly start begging for permission.

“Please, sir, I-I can’t…” he forced out between moans, straining as hard as he could against the cuffs binding his wrists and ankles. He was so, so painfully close, and if Dean would just-

“Open your eyes, Cas,” he commanded so softly that Castiel barely heard him over the sound of his own cries. There was nothing in the universe he would deny Dean anymore, so he quickly obeyed and was met with a scene that made his whole body tremble delightedly.

Dean had removed his shirt but left the jeans on. Castiel could see his erection straining against the fabric, but Dean didn’t seem to care about that in the slightest. The most captivating sight in Castiel’s mind, however, was the look on Dean’s face.

He appeared…well, if Cas didn’t know better, he would say that Dean was just as enraptured as he was. He was staring down at Castiel’s flushed body, eyes wide-open and lustful, lips parted, and face flushed in a way that made his freckles spectacularly obvious, and for the first time in his life, Castiel felt desirable. Beautiful, even.

For the first time, he was also able to see what was happening to him and watched as Dean’s fingers, buried up to the first knuckle inside him, pumped in and out, forcing him to throw his head back against the pillow and scream.

“Sir, please let me come!” he cried and met Dean’s eyes, catching a glimpse of his own need reflecting back at him.

“Yes, Cas, you’ve earned this. Come for me now,” he commanded, and Cas damn near howled as he fully let go of himself, relieving the ache he’d felt for so long and riding out the best orgasm he’d ever had.

He gave one final shout, bucking his hips upwards as much as possible against Dean’s hands as the shock waves of his orgasm radiated outwards and filled his entire body with warmth.

As the high brought on by coming slowly dissipated, he collapsed against the bed, arms and legs giving out completely, unable to even attempt wriggling against the cuffs anymore.

He lay back against the pillow, gasping for air and was barely cognizant of Dean rolling off of the bed and standing. He felt the pressure of the ankle cuffs that tied him to the footboard give away, and Dean tenderly massaged the muscles of his feet and ankles before proceeding to remove the cuffs from his wrists as well.

He bent down and pressed gentle kisses to the soft skin on the inside of Cas’s wrists, which gave Castiel a lovely glowing feeling, one that said, yes, he had pleased his Dom and had just been rewarded amazingly well for it.

“How are you feeling, Cas?” he asked, rubbing the length of Cas's arms, which were still lying limply above his head, and getting blood to flow back through them properly.

“Mmmm, sir…’m good, Sir,” he answered groggily, incapable of forming full sentences yet.

Dean didn’t seem to mind, thankfully, and huffed out a small laugh. “Well, that’s great, Cas; I’m glad you enjoyed yourself,” he said, that teasing glint back in his eyes. He picked Castiel’s arms up and laid them down at his sides in a more natural position, allowing blood to continue pumping back into them more efficiently.

“You were so good for me, Castiel. I’m so fuckin’ proud of you. That was your first time doing anything like this, and you knocked it outta’ the park,” he praised and started working on Cas’s legs, kneading the muscles from his thighs and down to his calves.

Castiel purred at this treatment and was overcome with a whole different sort of pleasure, the kind that came with being taken care of and pampered.

The fogginess was beginning to clear out of his mind as Dean continued his ministrations, and he noticed that Dean sounded slightly…off. Tense. Cas glanced over Dean, who had begun gathering the cuffs and flogger and placing them back into the chest, and realized he had never come.

“Sir?” he asked, hoarse from moaning and shouting.

“What is it, Castiel?” he ground out, and Castiel thought he sounded as though he was in pain.

“Can I, um, help you with that?” he questioned, looking pointedly at Dean’s erection, which appeared to be trying to escape from his jeans. He wanted nothing more than to help ease that issue; his brain still had a hazy layer over it that made it so all Castiel wanted to do was please his Dom and make him happy.

Dean puffed out a sigh as he finished putting the items into the chest and turned back to face Castiel.

“No, you may not. Right now, I want you to concentrate on yourself: take some deep breaths and try to relax. I’m going to the bathroom and will be back in a couple minutes. While I’m gone, feel free to stand, stretch…do whatever you need to be comfortable. When I come back, we’ll discuss where to go from there,” he said and exited the bedroom.

Relax. That was easy: Castiel was sure he’d never been so relaxed in his life. He was positive his limbs were made of jelly, even after Dean’s attentions, and while most of the murkiness had cleared from his head, a post-orgasmic bliss remained wrapped around him. He took his time alone to think about what had just transpired, and the more he thought back on it, the more the fogginess dissipated and the more disbelief he felt.

Did that really just happen? How did he, ‘innocent, virginal, and responsible Castiel’ end up here? Right, he had paid for it. His orgasmic high flew away quickly at that thought.

After a couple minutes, Dean returned and appeared to be much less uncomfortable than he had before. Castiel noted with no small amount of disappointment that the erection was gone and that Dean had buttoned his pants back up. Upon second thought, however, he realized it was probably a good thing that Dean didn’t expect anything more out of him tonight. He was wholly exhausted, both physically and mentally.

Castiel didn’t bother trying to cover himself as Dean surveyed him from the doorway. After all, the man had just put his fingers up his ass and brought him to orgasm, so he was beyond caring about his nakedness.

Dean walked towards him, and Castiel saw a damp washcloth in his hand. “Let’s get you cleaned off now,” he said and swept the cloth over Cas’s jizz-covered stomach, cleaning it off and then using the cloth’s other side to clear sweat away from Castiel’s face.

Castiel told himself that it didn’t mean anything. He had to always remember that he was paying Dean for this treatment and that he was simply doing his job. 

Once Dean had finished cleaning him off, he took Castiel’s hands and tugged him upwards until he was sitting upright. The position change left him slightly woozy, and Dean had him wait a minute before allowing him to stand on his own.

Castiel was beginning to feel fully like himself again, and he found he did want to put his clothes back on. He wasn’t embarrassed by his nudity per se, but he definitely wanted to cover himself up and put at least a small barrier back in place between himself and the rest of the world.

“Sir, may I get dressed now?” He asked quietly, uncertain again of how he was meant to behave.

“’Course you can. I didn’t go through your bag, so I don’t know what you brought for yourself, but I have some pajama pants and t-shirts here that you can wear if you’d like.”

“Well, if it’s alright, I wouldn’t mind wearing my own clothes right now.”

“Sure thing, Cas." Dean pulled him towards the doorway and into the bright hallway, which startled Castiel after being in the dimly lit bedroom for so long. “I set your overnight bag in your bedroom. It’s down the hallway, last door on the right. Once you get dressed, will you come back and join me downstairs?” he asked. 

Castiel’s first instinct was usually to choose spending time alone with his thoughts, but for whatever reason, the option of spending more time with Dean appealed, so he nodded his acquiescence, and a ‘Yes, sir’ came tumbling out of his mouth. God, it was pathetic how naturally that came to him.

Dean just smiled at him, though, and spun around to walk back down the stairs. Cas headed down the hallway, and upon entering the bedroom Dean had designated for him, was met with a bland room with beige walls and a white bedspread that would have fit in at any average hotel.

Was this the guest bedroom? Was the other just a place he takes his submissives to fool around? It seemed likely, given how different the two rooms were in appearance, and the absence of a box presumably loaded with sex toys in this one.

He used the restroom quickly and pulled on a plain black t-shirt and a pair of sweatpants. He decided not to bother unpacking his bag; he would only be here for tonight and tomorrow daytime before he’d leave to spend the weekdays at his own place, so what was the point?

For reasons he couldn’t quite put his finger on, he found himself becoming increasingly disgruntled as he prepared to go downstairs. He examined his appearance in the bathroom mirror, taking in his pink mouth that was swollen from biting his own lips, still-flushed cheeks, and messy hair (actual sex-hair instead of his standard unkemptness); all of those features screamed at him, _What the hell did you just do? Have you lost your mind?_

How could he have thought this was acceptable? It was one thing (a humiliating thing, albeit) to fantasize about being tied-up and dominated; it was an entirely different issue to do it and absolutely fucking love it. He knew in the back of his mind that it was irrational, but he was half-tempted to storm out of the house without a word to Dean. He stopped himself, though; there was nothing productive to be done about what he’d just experienced. What’s done was done, so he stomped out of the bedroom and marched himself down the stairs unhappily…until he made it to the living room and had to pause in mentally berating himself when he saw what Dean had set up for him.

The large-screen television was turned to Animal Planet and playing a documentary on arctic wildlife, and there was a large bowl of popcorn placed on the wooden coffee table. He was momentarily distracted by the baby penguins waddling across the screen and jumped slightly when Dean came up behind him holding a glass of ice water.

“Hey, Cas, I wasn’t sure what you’d like to drink, but I guessed water would be a safe bet. If you want, I also have juices and sodas…” he trailed off, gesturing towards the kitchen.

When Castiel didn’t reply, Dean asked, “How are you feeling, Cas? Be honest with me.”

_I’m totally fine. Moments ago, I was thinking about running away from here, and now I feel like a piece of crap for even considering it. Also, you’re far too kind and lovely, and I don’t deserve any of this._

“Yes, sir. I’m fine,” he said, but apparently he wasn’t as stoic and convincing as usual, judging by how skeptical Dean appeared.

He didn’t argue, though, and just told Castiel to sit down on the large black leather couch after asking him what his favorite drink was. He went off to the kitchen while Castiel settled back against the sofa.

He was so horribly confused. On the one hand he was shocked at what had happened upstairs; he had been a whimpering, pleading mess of a person. It didn’t at all fit with Castiel’s self-perception: he was rational, logical, and had astounding self-control. But then again, there was something buried deep inside of him that craved the loss of control. Obviously. That’s why he contacted Heavenly Delights and hired a pro-Dom in the first place. He didn’t know exactly what to do or think, but he resolved that he wasn’t going to be running away like a coward, not tonight at least.

Dean returned carrying the glass of sprite Castiel had requested and a bottle of beer for himself. “Since you don’t want to talk, and I’m not planning on forcing you to, how about we sit and watch some TV and have a snack? I know you said earlier today that you’re into animals and nature, so I thought this thing about Antarctica’s wildlife would be a good choice, but you can change it if you’d like,” he said as he plopped down next to Castiel, close but not quite touching.

“No, thank you for offering, but I’m happy with this,” he said and smiled tentatively at Dean.

He may not have been entirely comfortable with himself or have any solid idea about what he wanted out of this arrangement, but sitting there with Dean, his Dom (he was having a difficult time wrapping his head around the fact that he even had a Dom), watching baby penguins and seals flop across the screen, he was content. More than that, hopeful. He wasn’t sure about what specifically, but he was starting to feel that maybe something good could come out of this. Something even better than mind-blowing orgasms, if such things existed.

Castiel wasn’t planning on running out of his secure, cozy closet anytime soon and joining any gay pride parades or the Folsom Street Fair, but being somewhat at ease with himself after his first D/s scene…

It was a start, and a damn good one in Castiel’s opinion.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was my first time writing smut, and I'm not sure how I did. Constructive criticism would be greatly appreciated if you have a minute to comment; if not, thank you for reading anyway!


	5. Chapter 5

_**The male gentoo penguin carefully mounts his mate from behind...the male falls off of his mate following seventy percent of his mounting attempts, and the mating lasts as little as ten seconds...**_

_How unfortunate for the females_ , Castiel thought absently as he and Dean sat on the couch together, munching through a bowl of popcorn and discovering what dreadful lovers gentoo penguins were. Castiel was fascinated by the information, but he was having a difficult time paying as close attention as he would have otherwise. Dean had been quietly observing him ever since they came downstairs, which was more than a little distracting, along with his own thoughts roiling about inside.

Right now, though, Cas was far calmer than he had been. Penguin mating was exactly the sort of obscure minutiae that he loved learning about, and he no longer felt ready to bolt out the door at any minute. 

Dean apparently decided that he was relaxed sufficiently and that it was time to begin prying him open again. “Cas? How 'bout I pause the movie, and we can talk for a little while?”

Castiel didn’t divert his attention from the TV screen or give Dean any acknowledgement beyond a small nod. He was dimly concerned that he would offend or anger Dean with the lack of respect, but he simply paused the movie and instructed Castiel to face him.

He did as he was told but made sure to school his features back into a blank expression. There was no need to bother Dean with his ridiculous internal drama, and Dean didn’t need to know how close he had been to leaving him.

Dean looked him squarely in the eyes and said, “Castiel, right now I need you to talk to me as an equal, meaning I don’t want you calling me ‘sir’ or trying to obey me. This is your first night, and we have a few things we need to sort out before we continue, so you have to be totally honest with me for both of our benefit. Capisce?”

“Yes, Dean, I capisce,” he said but couldn’t help puffing his still-swollen bottom lip out in a pout. He wouldn’t lie to Dean because he didn’t want to break one of the rules they’d already agreed upon, but he knew Dean may regret asking to hear his thoughts.

Dean smirked slightly at Cas’s pout and said, “Good. First, how are you feeling right now? Just tell me whatever pops up in your mind.”

Castiel hesitated for several long seconds before answering. “Confused. I’m completely fucking confused right now and have no idea what to think about this whole situation.” If he was going with honesty, he may as well not hold anything back.

Dean was undeterred and looked at him determinedly. “Confused about what exactly? The rules of our arrangement? What you want out of this? How you’re feeling right now?”

“No, it’s just…I’m not sure what to think about myself. I really, um, enjoyed what we did tonight.” That was a massive understatement. “But when we were finished I started feeling…off. I can’t quite express clearly what was going on in my head, but basically I’d say I was off-balance. Shaky, uncertain of everything, and, honestly, angry at you, but I don’t know why. I wanted to leave, but then I saw you and what you’d set up here for me, so then I felt like an ass for even thinking about running out. And now, I'm calmer but not right...” he trailed off and gave a small shrug of frustration.

Dean tossed an arm around his shoulders and pulled him in close so that Cas was tucked in against his side. “Cas, do you know about sub-drop?”

Absolutely. He was inexperienced, not uninformed. “Of course. As I’ve said before, I did do my research before jumping into this. Sub-drop is defined as the effect of the release and ‘drop’ of endorphins in the body after a scene, and-”

“Cas, it’s great that you know the definition and that you did research. Seriously, I’ve had some people come in who didn’t know jack shit about what this involves. But, even though you did the research and learned the definition, you probably didn’t think about the emotional effects, right?”

True, but that was because he was a reasonable person who preferred straight-forward facts and irrefutable logic to the vagueness and uncertainty of emotions. He let out an indignant huff and twisted around under Dean’s arm to face him fully.

“Obviously I didn’t think about the emotional aspects of this! How was I supposed to since I’ve never done this before, and every website I looked at said sub-drop is a very individual thing that everyone goes through differently? I can barely interpret my emotions when they occur, so it would be illogical for me to attempt predicting them.”

“Hey, hey, I’m not blaming you! What I’m trying to get at is that most subs experience some sort of a drop, and what you felt is normal,” he said as he wrapped his arm around Castiel a little bit more tightly.

Cas unthinkingly curled in closer to him and nodded, sipping at his drink and taking a moment to process what Dean had said. Maybe Dean was right and the anger and confusion and shame he felt had been normal, especially considering this was his first time. Strong emotions were inevitable when it came to issues like this, Cas rationalized. 

“Dean, I believe I understand now.” At the dubious look Dean gave him, he continued, saying, “No, really, I think I do. I needed to transition out of ‘subspace’, and yes, I could give you the definition of subspace, and no, I didn’t really think of the emotional repercussions before.”

Dean smiled at him and rubbed his shoulders where they were stiff from the restraints. “Alright Spock, I believe you. How about now? You doing alright?” 

Castiel considered this carefully before answering. Physically, he was perfect. The soreness in his muscles from thrashing against the restraints was, oddly enough, fantastic, and being held snugly to Dean’s solid warmth was immensely comforting. Emotional wellness was harder to gauge, but he wasn’t upset anymore. Confusion still lingered, but he’d been confused about his sexuality all his life. Being cuddled wasn’t going to cure that. Otherwise, though, he felt pretty great. Content and secure. 

“Yes, I’m doing much better now, thank you, and I truly did, uh, have fun tonight,” he said, blushing, and smiled at Dean sheepishly.

Dean grinned back at him. “Yeah, I did, too.” Cas certainly hoped Dean wasn’t merely being polite by saying that. When Dean had let him open his eyes, he had been positive that Dean was affected by him, too, but now he had come back down to earth. Maybe Dean had been acting; it couldn’t be good for business if he made it obvious that he didn’t care for a client. He had been so gentle, too. Cas had been desperate to be fucked, but Dean hadn’t taken advantage of it. Cas didn’t think he was ready for that level of intimacy, but Dean wasn't aware of that. Was Dean not attracted to him?

His train of thought was suddenly interrupted. “Time for the million dollar question: what do you think, Cas? Do you want to stay on as my sub? No hard feelings if you don’t, and I can get you a full refund from Crowley.” 

Castiel didn’t have to hesitate before answering. “I may not be particularly good at this right now, but I want to keep trying. I’ve been thinking a lot while we were watching the movie and talking, and I have come to the conclusion that this is where I’m supposed to be right now.” Casting all questions of whether Dean was attracted to him aside, he knew that this could be good for him. Dean was safe and trustworthy. He could explore the submissive side of himself here without fear.

Cas continued, “I don’t quite understand the part of myself that wants this, but I want to. I just can’t keep thinking about this and fantasizing without ever doing anything, so yes, I absolutely want to continue with you.”

Dean’s mouth flopped open and snapped shut again, reminding Cas of a fish, before he spoke. “I-I get what you’re saying. I’d like to be the one who helps you figure it out, you know, whatever it is that you do want.” 

Cas was surprised at how endearing he found Dean’s stammering. He truly did enjoy the reminder that Dean wasn’t an invulnerable, flawless Domming robot. “I very much appreciate that, Dean. Can we continue tomorrow morning with me acting as your sub again?”

“Absolutely,” Dean said confidently, holding Cas’s gaze. “Will you repeat the rules I gave you earlier back to me?”

Castiel had the rules etched in his mind the moment Dean issued them. “Be honest with you at all times, take care of myself by eating properly and getting at least seven hours of sleep nightly, no lies whatsoever, and address you as 'sir,'” Castiel said, feeling rather proud of himself.

He was rewarded with a pleased smile and a kiss on the top of his head. “You got it. If you’re still happy with all of that, here’s how things will go tomorrow: I’d like you to be downstairs for breakfast by nine o’clock. I’ll cook, so you don’t have to worry about that, and you can wear whatever you’d like. After that, I’ll need an hour or two to get some work done. When I’m finished with that, I’ll be free for the rest of the day.” 

Perfect. He’d even have an hour to relax while Dean did whatever it was he needed to accomplish. “That sounds wonderful,” Cas said, and Dean beamed at him. _That really is a lovely smile_ , he thought dreamily. 

Cas stopped himself midway through examining the freckles that dotted Dean’s face. What was he doing mooning over his paid Dom’s _freckles_? Cas clearly was exhausted and delirious from what they’d done earlier. It was definitely time to go to his bedroom before he did something stupid. He glanced at his watch and saw that it was nearly one in the morning, so excusing himself now wouldn’t seem too peculiar.

Dean seemingly had the same idea, hopefully not as a consequence of being disturbed by Castiel’s staring. “Cas, it’s about time for me to head up to my bedroom,” he said, standing and pulling Castiel to his feet.

They walked up together in silence, and Dean stopped with Cas in front of the guestroom. He pointed toward a stairwell that was semi-hidden behind bookshelves at the opposite end of the hallway. "My room is on the third floor. If you need anything, feel free to come up and bang on my door, but please don’t come in without my permission.” 

Fair enough; Castiel wouldn’t want his bedroom, which he viewed as something of a sanctuary, being violated by a near stranger either. He did have one last query for Dean, though. “I have one last question: earlier you called me Spock. What does that mean?”

Dean gasped in horror, eyes bulging dramatically, and said, “That’s it, get out of my house right now!” He barked out a laugh at Cas’s shocked expression, and Castiel had zero clue what was so amusing. 

He clasped Cas’s shoulders and said, “Spock is the second best character on the best TV show ever. You just remind me of him, you know, you saying ‘it would be illogical,’ and your whole personality.” Castiel cocked his head to the side; that explanation offered no clarity whatsoever. 

Dean gestured vaguely in his direction and then folded his arms across his chest. “I’m definitely going to have to fix this gap in your knowledge. At some point before I’m through with you, I’m showing you Star Trek, and I will hear no arguments about it. Now good night, and I’ll see you in the morning,” he said, and Cas watched as he headed to the third floor, still shaking his head and smiling.


	6. Chapter 6

Castiel woke up startled to find himself in a bed that wasn’t his own. Instead of his small twin-sized bed and worn flannel sheets with puffy clouds printed on them, he was lying in a massive bed draped in silky cream-colored sheets. Peering around the bedroom and taking in the generic, beige colors and lack of decoration, his first thought was that he was in a hotel room. After waking up enough to think clearly, though, the events of the previous night came flooding back into his memory.

He’d spent the evening getting tied-up and finger-fucked by a Dom he’d hired then laying on said Dom’s couch watching a documentary about arctic wildlife and discussing his emotions. It was hard to believe in the light of day that he’d actually _done_ any of that. Even more difficult to believe was the fact that he felt pretty damn good about himself. _That_ was downright bizarre.

For a moment, he savored the peace of the morning as he listened to Dean clattering around in the kitchen and enjoyed the faint cinnamon scent that had wafted upstairs. He was torn between going down to help Dean prepare breakfast and taking these few minutes before he was due downstairs for himself. In the end, his natural leanings toward quiet and solitude won out, so he lay back down on the large, comfy bed and collected his thoughts so that he’d be calm and ready for Dean.

Last night had turned out much better than he ever let himself hope. He had been intimately introduced to something that he’d dreamt about for years and had loved it much more than he’d like to admit. There had been a part of him that had been hoping he’d absolutely hate whatever he did with Dean last night, but any chance of that had vanished the second Dean sent him upstairs. 

He still wasn’t totally content with his own desire for this arrangement, but Dean had succeeded in helping him feel more at ease with it. He wasn’t even too self-conscious about the way he’d behaved last night or the absolute mess he’d been when he’d begged and shouted in Dean’s bed like a madman. He was sure Dean had seen much worse, and really, he _was_ paying for this, so he might as well try to enjoy it and ignore his insecurities. 

Besides, Dean was sweet. Even though he was being paid for his company, Castiel had the sense that Dean found him amusing. And he had been patient with Castiel’s distress and confusion over the drop he’d experienced, which Castiel appreciated more than he would ever be able to say. People often scorned him when he didn’t understand emotions or sarcasm or a million other little things that seemed to come so easily to others. Sure, Dean had teased him, but Castiel hadn’t detected any of the mocking mean-spiritedness he’d received in the past. Instead, Dean had just gently led him through his first sub-drop. He’d seemed so genuinely caring that Castiel had almost forgotten Dean was being paid for his attentions.

Maybe it wouldn’t be such a bad thing if he were to let the payment factor slip his mind more often. He checked the time and, upon seeing it was nearly nine o’clock, decided that it was time to go downstairs. He couldn’t resist making a quick stop in the room he and Dean had ‘played’ in last night, though.

It looked very different with daylight filtering in through the window and while fully dressed instead of naked and rock-hard. This time, he noticed hooks and clips hanging from the ceiling that had been hidden when the lights were dimmed and saw a set of well-concealed sliding doors on the right-hand wall. He was tempted to open them and see what they led to but restrained himself as usual. 

As he exited the room and walked down the steps, he could faintly hear Dean talking to someone on the phone. When he made it into the kitchen, Dean was setting a massive plate laden with bacon, French toast, and fruit on the table along with two steaming coffee mugs while speaking into the phone grasped between his shoulder and ear.

“Dad…no, I can’t-,” Dean said, apparently distraught, and Castiel could hear muffled shouting on the other end of the line. Dean didn’t acknowledge his presence in any way, so he stood quietly in the background and waited for Dean to end the conversation.

Castiel was disconcerted once he noticed how upset Dean seemed, such a far cry from the easy-going yet controlled man he’d known so far. “I’m sorry, but I just don’t think I should-okay…okay, Dad, bye,” Dean said, shrinking in on himself with every word until he hung up the phone. 

An unfamiliar sentiment swept through Castiel at the sight: the desire to comfort, to take Dean in his arms and hold him. The only person Castiel was very close to was Meg, and even that relationship was superficial in so many ways. He never really opened up to her more than absolutely necessary. He’d always felt love and affection for animals, but they couldn’t properly _respond_ to him. But there was something about Dean that made him want to reach out and touch.

Dean still hadn’t even noticed he was there, though; he was taking in deep, measured breaths with his eyes shut. Castiel wasn’t sure what to do, but then Dean said, eyes still closed, “Hey, Castiel.”

Castiel jumped slightly at that (he’d thought he was being stealthy) and reddened at being caught eavesdropping.

Dean finally looked at Castiel. “The only way I knew you were here is because it’s nine o’clock, and I was sure you weren’t going to be late. If it weren’t for that I wouldn’t have known you were there; I’ll have to put a bell on you or something,” he said, smiling, but Castiel thought it wasn’t as genuine as yesterday.

“I apologize for listening in on your conversation, sir,” Castiel said, still surprised at how naturally addressing him as ‘sir’ came. “I simply wasn’t certain-”

“Cas, don’t worry about it. You’re not a mind reader, right?”

“Well, no-”

Dean cut him off again, saying, “And I’ll never expect you to be one. You came downstairs at the exact time I told you to, and you waited respectfully for me to finish my conversation, which in my book means you’ve done great so far. You don’t have to stress about predicting what I want; if there’s something I want you to do, I’ll tell you, and if you’re uncertain about anything, always ask me. I’ll _never_ be angry at you for asking me questions or not knowing something. Okay?”

“Yes, sir,” Castiel answered. A faint glimmer of pride welled up in him at being told he’d done well. He wanted to ask Dean about the phone call and why he’d looked so upset but held back; it wasn’t his business to involve himself in Dean’s personal life.

Dean just gave him another smile, one that Cas thought was more sincere, and said, “I’ve got breakfast ready for us; before we eat, go to the living room and pick out a throw pillow.”

Castiel did as he was told and was almost positive he knew the reason for this command. He was a thorough researcher after all, and kneeling was a common element in an arrangement like this. He’d simply never seen much eroticism in kneeling down and being fed like a dog. But, he _did_ want to do well on his first full day, so he set the pillow next to the chair where Dean was seated and knelt beside him without waiting for instruction.

Surprisingly, Dean didn’t seem pleased about this. “Castiel, like I’ve said before, I’m happy that you’ve done research and know the basics of what to expect. But, I don’t want you trying to anticipate everything we do here. You need to trust me to take care of you whenever you’re with me.”

That was easier said than done. Castiel looked up at Dean and said, “I’m trying. It’s just difficult for me. You know this is something I want, but it’s…” he trailed off, unable to put into words the sense that he was being pulled in two directions, one screaming that he absolutely _shouldn’t_ want to kneel at a man’s feet like a pet and the other happily waiting with perked ears for his next instructions.

“Castiel, believe me, I understand how hard it can be to give up control, and I would never expect you to do that with someone you don’t trust,” Dean said and reached down to begin brushing gentle fingers through Castiel’s hair. “And right now, you don’t fully trust me yet, which makes sense because we just met, and you _are_ a logical person.”

Castiel examined Dean closely, searching for any hint of teasing, but couldn’t find any. Dean continued, “It’s my job right now as your Dom to _earn_ your trust; it’s not your responsibility to give it to me on blind faith.” Castiel couldn’t stop himself from leaning into Dean’s touch as he kept sweeping through his hair, getting all the tiny tangles and knots out.

“That’s why we’re taking this slowly. With this sort of thing, you have to take baby steps before breaking into a sprint. Today, I have some of those steps in mind for us to take if you’re up for it. What do you think, Castiel? Will you let me take care of you today?” He paused in petting Castiel to cup his chin and tilt his head up so that their eyes met.

Castiel didn’t even have to think about it. “Yes, absolutely, sir.” Castiel couldn’t imagine anyone that would refuse Dean when he sounded so confident and was so kind and patient. 

“I’m happy to hear it, Cas,” he said and took his hand out of Castiel’s hair to cut into a thick slice of French toast. He ate a large bite off of the fork before tearing off another piece with his fingers and lowering it down to Cas’s level. 

He hesitated for one brief moment before parting his lips and accepting the offered food. The spicy-sweetness of cinnamon and the fluffy, creamy texture of the bread burst across his tongue, making him let out a short moan.

Dean laughed lightly. “I guess you like it well enough then?” 

“Yes, it’s amazing, sir,” he answered as Dean placed another piece before his mouth, which he enthusiastically accepted. He mostly subsisted on take-out and TV dinners and hadn’t eaten home-made food in _years_. Not a bad way at all to start out the morning.

“Glad you like it. I actually kinda enjoy cooking, so it’s something I’m happy to do while you’re with me,” he said, sounding almost embarrassed, though Castiel couldn’t fathom why. He hadn’t expected he’d be getting a chef as well when he hired a Dom, but he certainly wasn’t going to complain about the welcome departure from Ramen and White Castle.

Dean resumed petting Castiel’s hair while they ate. After several bites, Castiel was enjoying this treatment way more than he imagined. It was peaceful, being hand-fed pieces of French toast, bacon, and fruit while Dean worked his hands through his hair, making his body thrum with pleasure. Every taste was intensified; the meat more savory, the toast sweeter and richer, and the plump, fresh strawberries were absolutely luscious, especially when Castiel licked their juice off of Dean’s fingers. 

He was falling again, just like he had last night, slipping into the space where he could enjoy being pampered and petted. Without having to think about it, he rested his head on Dean’s thigh and nuzzled into him, full of food and warmth.

“Cas?” Dean asked quietly as he tucked a stray hair behind Castiel’s ear. “I need you to listen to me now ‘cause we have to go over a couple things for the day.”

“I’m listening, sir,” he said, shivering when Dean’s thumb brushed over a sensitive spot on the nape of his neck.

“Since you’ve decided to stay with me and sub the entire time we’re with each other, if you’re okay with it I’d like us to have two different safewords. Last night after the scene, I stopped acting as your Dom so we could talk things through easily, but now I think it would be best if we had a safeword that’s _just_ to end a particular scene and another that’ll let me know you need for us to step out of our roles entirely. What do you think?”

“I think I’d like that.” A safeword to end a scene but without having to pull himself out of subbing entirely sounded perfect to him.

“What about using ‘honeybee’ as your safeword to pause _everything_ and using the traffic light system for any individual scene, like what we did last night? Red for stop, yellow for slow down, and green for go, of course?”

“Mmm-hmm, that works for me, sir,” Cas said distractedly, nuzzling into Dean’s thigh. It was challenging to pay close attention when Dean was stroking over the sensitive skin of his neck. He looked up when Dean tugged on his hair, not quite hard enough to be painful, but enough to get his attention.

“You have to focus now, Castiel. Being on the same page when it comes to safewords is crucial. Can you repeat what I said about what safewords to use and when?”

“ ‘Honeybee’ if we need to completely step out of our roles and the traffic light system for any given, individual scene, sir. All of that sounds great to me.” He just hoped that Dean would resume combing through his hair again since they had that issue sorted out. 

“Good boy. Now, are you full, or do you want more to eat?” Dean asked and placed his hand on the side of Castiel’s neck.

“I’m full, sir.” It was the best food he’d eaten in a long while. Judging by the pasta last night and what he’d just been fed, Dean was an excellent cook, and Castiel wanted to show some appreciation. “Thank you for preparing breakfast, sir, and dinner last night, too. My roommate and I mostly live on LeanCuisine and delivery food, so this has been a very pleasant change for me.”

Dean flushed at the compliment and once again seemed embarrassed. “Thank you, Cas. That’s…that’s really nice to hear.” Castiel thought he sounded way more emotional than one would expect just from having his cooking complimented. It was great, and Dean should know it.

Dean cleared his throat loudly and abruptly stood. He reached a hand down to help Castiel stand and said, “Before we do anything fun, I have to do a little work. Is there anything you need to do today?”

“No, sir.” He had made sure to complete every bit of work that needed to be done by Monday so that his weekend would be free to spend with Dean. The fact that Dean hadn’t done the same honestly annoyed him a little. Well, annoyed him a lot.

Dean either didn’t notice his irritation or chose to ignore it. “Good. While I work, I’d like you to either sit on the couch with me or kneel beside me, your choice. I just have two things I want you to do. The first is I’d like you to strip out of your clothes; once you’ve done that, fold them and set them on the space I’ve cleared on the counter.”

Castiel felt his mouth dry and his heart begin to quicken its pace. It was one thing to be naked in front of Dean in a dimly lit, private bedroom in a clearly sexual environment. It was another issue entirely to be naked in the middle of the morning, just lounging around the house with Dean while he remained clothed. The idea of being so fully exposed was humiliating, but his dick was swelling in anticipation at the thought. 

There was no way he was backing out of this, so he began stripping, trying to be as business-like as possible while Dean gazed at him coolly. He almost stumbled stepping out of his lounge pants, but he recovered quickly and folded everything carefully before placing his clothing where Dean had pointed out. 

He moved to stand before Dean again, who asked, “Color?”

“Green, sir.” Bright, bright green, if the arousal he was feeling at being watched so closely was anything to go by.

“Good boy,” he said, and Castiel felt another little burst of pride. Dean turned and walked toward the living room, with Castiel following closely behind. “The only other thing I want you to do now is focus on not touching yourself while I’m working. It’ll be two hours, tops. Do you think you can handle that?”

It didn’t sound very difficult to Castiel. Sure, he was a _little_ aroused now, but that was because being naked like this was new to him, and the way Dean appeared wholly unaffected definitely wasn’t helping matters. But he’d get used to this soon, surely.

“Yes, sir. I’m sure I can handle it.” He thought he sounded as self-assured as a person could be while standing stark-naked in another man’s living room, with both daylight and artificial light shining on him, not concealing anything. 

Dean sat down on the couch and spread his legs, gesturing for Cas to stand between them. He reached out and began running his hands up and down Castiel’s sides. “Confidence is healthy, Cas, but I’d be careful not to get too cocky if I were you.” 

Well, he’d just have to prove Dean wrong. Dean asked, “Would you like to sit on the couch with me or kneel?”

Hmm. Kneeling had been great at breakfast, and maybe if he wasn’t right beside Dean and didn’t have to look at him, it would be easier to concentrate on something other than his arousal. “I’d like to kneel, sir,” he said and sunk to his knees.

Dean smirked at him and laid a pillow down for Castiel to sit on. “Good choice. You can speak freely, but within reason. I’ll know if you’re just trying to distract yourself, and I will not be happy about that. Understand?”

“Yes, sir.” He leaned his head against Dean’s inner thigh as Dean grabbed the huge, overstuffed binder that had been waiting on the coffee table when they walked in.

“If you get thirsty, or that position starts to hurt, or you need anything at all, tell me, and I’ll fix it.” 

It was a nice offer, but Castiel wouldn’t have to take him up on it because he was perfectly fine, and this would be the easiest challenge ever, easier than beating Meg at _Jeopardy!_

Easy.


	7. Chapter 7

There was no clock in Dean’s living room.

Castiel was certain of this because he’d spent the past…well, he didn’t know exactly how long, but it had to have been at least an hour that he’d been searching for one while kneeling between Dean’s legs.

If he had any idea how much more time Dean would need to work on whatever it was he was doing, it might make matters easier for him because as it turned out, this little challenge Dean had given him was far harder than expected. 

It had started out simply. Once he’d gotten over the mental hurdle that being completely naked presented, he’d been able to calm both his brain and cock down enough to relax. Slightly. An undercurrent of tension lingered in his body since he was absolutely certain _something_ was coming up soon, likely something that would leave him a breathless, shaking mess like last night. 

With this thought a constant presence, it was impossible to be fully at ease, but he was fairly comfortable. He’d nestled his head as much as possible into Dean’s thigh and attempted to concentrate on the mind-numbing issue of how he would approach his meeting with the CFO of a start-up tech company tomorrow. His boss, Dick Roman, would have his ass if he didn’t have the necessary information prepared to convince the CFO that Richard Roman Enterprises was worth partnering with financially. He received no joy from this job, but it served as a distraction from what was currently happening to him.

He’d internally completed his presentation up to the part where he compared the success of the tech company to how Dick had risen in the business industry decades ago when Dean decided to make Castiel’s job of not touching himself more difficult.

Dean had begun innocuously enough, with soft, lingering touches to Castiel’s hair and neck. It had been soothing, almost to the point where Castiel thought he may doze off curled around Dean’s leg. However, Castiel shortly figured out what Dean was doing when he started paying prolonged attention to the spots that made Castiel shiver or sigh and repeatedly touching him in the ways that raised goose bumps on his skin.

After an hour of Dean stroking the thin, sensitive skin under his ears and across the sides of his neck, tracing a path down to his collarbones with the tips of his fingers, and caressing his hair with the lightest sort of touches that sent trembles throughout his body, Castiel was on edge. All thoughts of accountancy and budgetary meetings had quickly dissipated along with any relaxation he’d had. 

And, unfortunately for Castiel, his cock had perked back up at the attention he was receiving from Dean. _Dammit._

He had reflexively checked his wrist, but of course, his watch was lying in a neat stack with the rest of his clothes. It was at that moment that he’d begun hunting around the room for a clock. When he’d had no luck in finding one, he couldn’t help releasing a little whine. 

“Doing okay, Castiel?” Dean asked innocently as he played with the tiny hairs at the back of Castiel’s neck. 

“Yes, sir, I’m doing wonderful,” he answered, sounding far more strained than he would have liked. He was determined to do just as Dean told him, perfectly. He wasn’t sure if it was because of his competitive nature that often sprang up unexpectedly or if it was just that he wanted to please Dean, but he had no intention of failing at the goal that had been set for him. 

He heard Dean laughing quietly above him. “I’ll take your word for it for now, Cas. But, you should _tell_ me if you want something. Communication is the word of the day, so speak up whenever you need me.” He then continued alternating between scribbling down notes in his binder and petting Castiel. 

Fine. He would inform Dean if he became truly desperate, but he could certainly hold out longer. He may have wanted to touch himself and relieve the ache that was starting to build, but he would resist that temptation. 

Just as he was convincing himself of that, Dean reached farther down Castiel’s body than he had been before and stroked over his nipples with a feather-light touch. He repeated this motion as Castiel’s heart rate picked back up and heat began coursing through his body. 

Castiel let out a shaky breath and told himself to try to relax. He’d discovered last night just how sensitive his nipples were, a fact Dean had also obviously noticed, and he imagined that having them played with while he was unable to do anything about it would soon become torturous. 

He could accept the offer Dean had just given him. He could request help, and Dean would probably grant him some relief from the itch he felt that was growing stronger with each second. Castiel wouldn’t do that, though. He’d have to think of a better method of distracting himself from what Dean was doing to him.

His thoughts flew to one of his favorite subjects: bees. Starting at the beginning of an alphabetical list of families that he’d long ago committed to memory, he imagined their appearances, what they required to survive, and their behavioral characteristics. 

_The Andrenidae, colloquially named the mining bee, are located primarily in temperate climates and are typically considered-_

His thoughts were abruptly halted when Dean tweaked one of his nipples, and he couldn’t stop himself from groaning in response. It probably could have been heavenly to be teased like this, but it was maddening knowing that he couldn’t do a single thing to hurry the slow pace Dean apparently wanted to take.

Castiel exhaled another short moan when Dean moved his hands away from Cas’s nipples and pulled slightly on his hair. “Cas, while I finish going through the last several pages of my business records, how about you tell me what you liked about what we did last night?”

That, at least, was easy: everything. “Um…well, there wasn’t anything that I didn’t enjoy,” he answered as his mind was flooded with memories of what they’d done the previous evening, from how amazing and frightening it was to be bound to the bed and wholly out of control to the sensation of Dean’s fingers inside him, how _good_ they had felt and how he’d wanted to be filled up even more than he had been.

Dean’s hand cupped the back of Castiel’s head, and his thumb slowly brushed along the side of Cas’s neck. “I can’t disagree with you about that, Cas. You were fucking amazing,” he said casually.

He went on and said, “Since you don’t seem like you’re gonna be giving me any specifics, I’ll tell you some of what I liked best.” He removed his hands from Castiel entirely, and Cas barely restrained himself from complaining at the loss. _Distract yourself and don’t touch._

_The Apidae is one of the largest families of bees, pollinators that are invaluable…_

“Might as well start from the beginning, right?” Castiel hoped he wasn’t expected to answer because nothing coherent was coming out of him anytime soon. Dean continued, “When I first walked into that bedroom and saw you kneeling for me, head bowed and everything, I was so damn impressed. You were so nervous and cautious when we first met, and I would’ve understood if you had backed out, but you didn’t. You trusted me and did just what I asked you to. I hope you know how many people wouldn’t have done that and how brave you are.”

Castiel knew it was bullshit; he wasn’t brave it all. He was a weird, pathetic guy who wanted to be dominated by other men. Nevertheless, this knowledge didn’t stop his throat from tightening at Dean’s words or keep him from attempting to bury his burning face in Dean’s thigh.

“Hey, don’t hide from me.” Dean placed a hand on his shoulder and pulled him back until he was facing Dean but still kneeling and leaning against his leg. 

Dean said, “I want you to listen to me closely now, Cas, because I mean every word I’m about to say. You were fucking gorgeous last night, bound to the bed, waiting for me and having faith that I would take care of you and give you what you need.”

Another surge of desire ran through Castiel because, really, that’s what he was doing right now. He had willingly made himself vulnerable for another person, knelt down in front of him, and was relying on him not to betray that trust. There was a contradictory nature to what he was doing; it was scary, placing that much faith in another person’s hands, but he was buoyed by Dean and the sense of warmth and security he’d given Castiel ever since they met.

Dean reached out and traced the tips of his fingers along Castiel’s jawline from his earlobe down to his chin, then shifted lower to stroke along his collarbone. “And you were so responsive to everything I did to you. It was…it was beautiful seeing someone that had been so stoic come undone because of me.” He moved lower to once again draw his fingers over Cas’s already sensitized nipples, causing Castiel to shudder. 

Cas looked up at Dean’s face and saw that he had that captivated expression, just like last night when he had watched Cas come. “Then when I had you suck my fingers, get them all wet for me, I couldn’t stop thinking about your lips being wrapped around my dick instead.”

That was exactly what Cas had wanted, too; he had wished he could take Dean in his mouth, maybe get down on his knees before him and suck him until he came down Castiel’s throat. His dick was quickly becoming almost painfully hard at the thought; the past hour and a half of being constantly semi-aroused and untouched had made it so that he was yearning to be touched in some way, just _anything_ more than these teasing, feathery caresses that Dean had been giving him.

He made one final, last-ditch effort at focusing on the Colletidae family and how they secrete a plaster-like substance that can smooth a nest’s walls, but any shred of composure he had tried to maintain vanished as Dean spoke.

He cupped Castiel’s cheek in his palm and held his gaze so that Castiel was pierced with his bright, excited eyes. “You know what my favorite part of last night was, Cas? How easily you accepted me into you. You opened right up for me and took my fingers in so well. You were so _tight_ and eager. You clenched down around me so beautifully, and I can’t wait until it’s my cock splitting you open instead.”

Castiel was panting now and rutting into the air. He was achingly hard, dick pointing straight at the ceiling, and he could feel his hole clutching futilely at the air, wanting to be filled.

Dean, aside from the hugely dilated pupils and the flush that his face had taken on, was totally cool and collected. Still holding Cas’s face in his hand, he said, “Cas, remember what I said about telling me if you need something from me? You know what to do if you want release.” He let go of Castiel and picked up his binder again.

That was the last straw; Castiel’s resolve finally broke. The throbbing in his cock had become unbearable, and pre-come was steadily leaking from its tip, so he knew it was time to surrender. “Sir, please touch me,” he gasped out.

Dean immediately set aside his work. “Where, Castiel? Like I said, communication is the key today. I want you to be comfortable with me and an important part of that is you being able to tell me what you need. Now, I’ll ask you again, and if you don’t answer I’ll get back to work: _where_ would you like me to touch you?”

“My cock, sir,” he answered breathlessly. Dean grabbed his hands and gestured for him to stand. His legs were stiff from kneeling for so long, but he braced himself against Dean’s arms and didn’t stumble. 

Once Cas was standing, Dean said, “Spread out on the couch on your stomach. You can rub yourself against the couch, but do _not_ come yet.”

Castiel followed these orders, lying face down on the buttery soft leather and rocking his hips against it, and he buried his head into the couch cushion in an effort to muffle all of the urgent, yearning noises he was making.

Behind him, he heard the sound of Dean unzipping his jeans, and then the couch sunk in as Dean sat down behind him. “Spread your legs as far as you comfortably can. Don’t hurt yourself trying to spread them more than that.”

Cas was naturally extremely flexible, which, compounded with the yoga classes he sometimes attended with Meg, allowed him to open his legs wide, one slipping off the side of the couch and the other pressed as deeply as possible into the couch’s backrest. The couch was huge, so this move left his hole fully exposed and grasping at the air. He just didn’t give a damn anymore.

Just like the night before, he was untethered and completely uncaring about all of the keening, desperate sounds he was making, and it was so fucking freeing to let himself go like this, to show as much _desire_ as he wanted without any fear or shame, to allow himself to be human for once.

Really, all he cared about was getting fucked as soon as possible.

He couldn’t see Dean, but he felt the couch dip in again as Dean crouched at the apex of Castiel’s thighs. “You’re so goddamn gorgeous like this, Cas,” he muttered appreciatively. He grabbed two handfuls of Cas’s ass cheeks, pushing them together and then pulling them apart.

Castiel was positive he was Dean was going to drive him insane. Then he remembered what Dean had wanted from him today: communication. “Sir, please…touch my hole.”

Dean patted his ass and said, “Good boy,” before he began peppering kisses all along the backs and insides of Castiel’s thighs. Castiel moaned loudly and pulled his knees up farther along his body to give Dean better access. 

Right as Dean was finished with his thighs, he started pressing kisses and licks to his ass intermingled with nipping bites that had Castiel squirming and quaking. Dean suddenly stopped; Castiel couldn’t see what he was doing, but his intentions soon became clear when he blew lightly against Cas’s asshole. 

“So fuckin’ pretty, Cas. I could stay here all day just watching you like this, so hot and needy, with that pretty hole of yours wanting to be filled.” 

“Just do it!” Castiel wasn’t quite certain what ‘it’ he meant, but Dean needed to do something before Castiel lost his mind. 

Shouting proved to be an ineffective motivator, though, since all he received in response was a sharp, firm bite to his ass. He yelped because _that_ was not what he had expected at all. Dean said, “Ask me nicely, Cas, or else I’ll spank you and leave you like this until you learn your manners.”

The idea of Dean spanking him was undeniably appealing, but he couldn’t handle it if Dean followed through on the second half of that threat. “Please lick me there, sir, want your mouth on me.”

“Good,” Dean answered and promptly got to work. He licked a long, wet stripe up the crack of Cas’s ass, and Castiel almost choked on his own breath. Dean swept over him with slick, wet strokes of his tongue, all up and down his ass, concentrating firm, short licks right over the center of his asshole.

It was so damn _good_ that Castiel rocked his hips backwards, trying to get Dean’s tongue inside of him. Dean wasn’t having any of it, though, and gripped Castiel’s hips so tightly that Cas was certain they’d be bruised tomorrow. He hoped they would be.

Cas had abandoned his efforts at silencing any of his sounds with the pillow and was openly, loudly moaning and whimpering. When Dean finally pushed his tongue into Cas’s hole, Castiel knew he wouldn’t be able to stop himself from coming any longer, no matter how hard he tried. 

“Yellow, sir, I can’t…” he said, praying that Dean would understand what he meant. He did, thank god, and instantly pulled out of Cas’s ass. He draped his body over Castiel’s, his chest flush with Cas’s back and tugged Castiel upwards so that his legs were no longer spread so far apart and he was on his hands and knees.

He rolled his hips back onto Dean’s cock, which had freed itself from his jeans, and Dean nudged Cas’s ass cheeks open until his cock was buried between them. Cas clenched them together and was proud when Dean groaned at the sensation Cas had produced. 

Any smugness he felt over that disappeared when Dean took his cock in his hand and used his other arm to trap Castiel’s hips against his groin as tightly as possible. He mouthed hungrily at Castiel’s shoulder and neck as he pumped Cas’s cock. 

Castiel was only holding onto his control by a tiny little thread that was in danger of tearing with every move Dean made. He _wouldn’t_ come without permission, and now he knew just how to get that permission. “I want- I need to come, sir.”

Dean slid his dick between Cas’s ass crack one last time and said, “Do it, Cas, come for me.”

Cas cried out as he came in a hot spurt over Dean’s hand. Dean lowered him so that he was lying flat on his stomach again, utterly blissed-out. Within seconds, Dean came on his back, and Cas shuddered with pleasure at having his Dom’s come striping his body, at the sense that he’d been marked. They laid together, Cas sandwiched between Dean and the couch, for several minutes after. 

All too soon, Dean rolled off of him and the couch, but he was too dazed to do anything other than let out a short whine in protest. He lied on the couch, sucking in deep breaths and coming down from the high he was experiencing. Dean returned almost instantly with Cas’s lounge pants, a washcloth to clean them both off with, and a glass of orange juice that he set on the coffee table.

He gently wiped Castiel off from his thighs to his shoulders and then helped Cas roll over onto his back so that he could give his front the same treatment.

As he worked, Dean murmured, “You did so great, Cas, you were so good. Did just what I asked you to. I’m so proud that you told me what you wanted and that you remembered to say ‘yellow’ when things got to be too much.”

Castiel flushed with happiness at this praise and reached toward Dean unabashedly. What he really wanted was to be held. Dean understood him and sat behind him on the couch so that he could pull Cas upwards into a sitting position and cradle him against his chest.

“Thank you for trusting me. You _ever_ need something from me, all you’ve gotta do is ask.” He rubbed Cas’s back soothingly as he spoke and dropped a kiss onto his forehead. 

Castiel wasn’t sure how long he sat there with Dean’s arms around him as his breathing returned to normal and the aftershocks of his orgasm ran their course. He knew that he was safe and cared for, so he had no interest in moving. 

Dean let go of him long enough to grab the juice and hold it to Cas’s lips. “Drink this; it’ll help you regain your energy.” Cas guzzled down the whole glass and was caught off guard by thirsty he was.

“Need more?” Dean asked. When Castiel shook his head, Dean helped him stand and step back into his pants. Cas was thankful that Dean was letting him put clothes back on. He wasn’t self-conscious in front of Dean, not really, but he wasn’t ready to be naked the whole time he was with him yet.

He sat back on the couch after Dean had wiped it off and dried it, and he waited for the anger and discomfort to hit him like it had the night before. He shouldn’t feel this _right_ after what they’d done, not this peaceful and content.

Dean plopped down beside him. “What do you want to do, Cas?” Cas glanced at him, uncertain about what he was referring to. Dean explained, “I always think it should be sub’s choice after a scene, so we can do anything you’d like now. Want me to put in a movie you like? Or a bath maybe?”

Cas only had to consider this for a minute before deciding. “Could we watch _Star Trek_? I’d like to know more about this Mr. Spock that you compared me to. I’m curious as to whether I was being insulted or not,” he said, narrowing his eyes at Dean suspiciously, only half-joking. 

Dean just laughed and said, “Coming right up, Spock.”

~

“The title of that episode was certainly accurate,” Cas said as Scotty closed the episode. “The tribbles certainly are troublesome little beasts.”

“Wait until we get to Next Gen, and you meet the Borg.” Dean shuddered. “Those are some freaky bastards.” He had Castiel’s legs sprawled out over his lap and was massaging any soreness out of them. Cas had complained about the stiffness from kneeling briefly at one point and Dean had insisted on helping him. Not that Castiel minded in the slightest.

They had spent the afternoon stretched out on Dean’s couch watching Dean’s ‘Must Watch’ episodes of Star Trek’s Original Series. Cas was startled by how much he loved it. Naomi had never let her children watch secular television, and after he moved out he was solely focused on performing well in college and then at work. Aside from his nature programs and the reality TV Meg forced him to watch, he’d never really had the opportunity to fall in love with a TV show and its characters. 

In the past several hours, he’d relaxed with Dean and learned about Vulcans and Klingons and tribbles, and he couldn’t remember the last time he’d had more fun. Most importantly, he’d concluded that Dean hadn’t been insulting him by calling him Spock, who was now Cas’s favorite character. He could see himself in Spock, who had so much passion bubbling beneath the surface but often couldn’t express it. He knew from what Dean had told him that people sometimes believed Spock to be emotionless and cold, but Cas didn’t see that at all.

His favorite part of the afternoon, though? The way Dean was acting. He looked so happy to share this with Castiel, and every time Cas added his commentary to an episode, or laughed along with him, or was genuinely surprised at a plot twist, he seemed so joyful that it made Cas’s heart ache.

Cas asked, “Should we start the next episode?” Then maybe after this one he could ask Dean about when they would eat dinner. It was becoming darker outside, and he was beginning to feel hungry.

Dean glanced at his watch. “Um, well, it’s almost six o’clock. You said in your contract that you wanted to leave my house by six on Sundays so that you could eat with your roommate and get ready for work.” 

The contract had slipped his mind entirely. It was humiliating, but he’d enjoyed their day so much that he’d let himself forget that he was paying Dean for this. 

“Right, I did say that. Let me pack my bag, and I’ll leave.” He jumped off the couch and darted out of the living room and up the stairs to his bedroom, ignoring Dean when he called after him. A part of him hadn’t let go of considering Dean his Dom and hated not listening to him, but the reasonable portion of him remembered that Dean _wasn’t_ his Dom at the moment and that they were now outside of the hours designated in the contract.

He’d never properly unpacked, so it was only a minute before he was walking back downstairs, fully dressed and prepared to leave. Dean was waiting at the front door, totally expressionless.

Castiel reached for the door handle, but Dean latched onto his wrist and stopped him. “You don’t have to listen to me now, but I will be texting you tonight and tomorrow to make sure you’re doing alright. Sub-drop can hit you hours after a scene, and I need to make sure that you’re okay even when you’re not with me. Promise you’ll keep your phone with you and answer me if I send you something? And that if you start to feel like shit you’ll call and talk to me?”

“I promise.” Cas gave Dean a small smile. He didn’t want to end the weekend on bad terms with Dean. After all, it wasn’t his fault that Castiel had forgotten why they were together. Dean had cared for him and behaved precisely how Castiel had dreamed of for years. Even better because he was real.

Dean obviously wasn't too angry about Castiel running away because he grinned back at Cas and opened the door for him. “Good. Kirk’s gotta take care of his Spock, and I’ve gotta take care of you.”

Cas growled playfully as Dean walked him out to his car. “Of course Kirk cares for Spock when he needs it. He knows that he can’t always get by on charm alone and that he relies on Spock’s strong critical thinking skills.” He sat down in the driver’s seat and saw that Dean was still standing next to him.

He leaned in and whispered conspiratorially in Castiel’s ear. “Personally, I think he just really appreciates Spock’s gorgeous ass.” He laughed in Cas’s stunned face and shut the car door behind him. “Until next time, Cas!”

Castiel drove back to his apartment and focused on the _Dasypodaidae_ bee family and _not_ on how Dean's smile affected him or how much he'd wanted to stay with him. Because this was just about Cas purging a bizarre fantasy from his system and nothing else, and that was how it would stay. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much to moderatelysexyformyshirt for beta-ing this chapter for me and a huge thank you to everyone who's reading this! I seriously appreciate your reviews and encouragement more than I can even say. :)


	8. Chapter 8

Castiel shifted uncomfortably in his seat as Dick Roman finished their presentation to the tech company Roman Enterprises would be aligning itself with. Cas knew the company’s CFO had been impressed by what Castiel’s financial analysis had shown her and would definitely want to partner with Roman. He may even be offered a pay raise thanks to his stellar work.

Cas knew he should be proud of his accomplishment today; he was great at his job and had a superb mind for numbers. But it was difficult to muster any enthusiasm for work that was so _draining_. Monday through Friday was five days straight of pure monotony and barely tolerating Roman’s thinly-veiled remarks about his own manhood, along with how he took credit for everything Castiel did. He managed to drag himself into the office daily by keeping his younger sister, Anna, a constant presence in his mind and remembering that she might soon need the help of his and Gabe’s stable incomes.

He tried to listen as Roman capped off their presentation by restating how incredibly lucky people who partner with him were and glossing over Castiel’s contributions. That was fine; Cas was accustomed to being treated like a tool that could be shelved when unneeded. He only wanted Roman to shut up and let him go so that he could quit sitting on his sore ass and check his cell phone, which had buzzed repeatedly since the beginning of the meeting.

Roman raised his hands like he was blessing the conference room. “In conclusion, if you want to rise hard and fast in this industry, partner with Dick. Thank you for your time!” 

As soon as Roman gave him the nod signifying he was free to leave, he dashed out of the room before Roman could give any more motivational speeches laden with references to his genitals. He went directly to his tiny office and locked the door behind him. Privacy was a necessity at the moment. There was only one person who’d be texting him at work, and Cas wasn’t certain he would be able to maintain the Vulcan-esque façade he strived to uphold while speaking to him.

He flipped open his ancient phone and read the message that was waiting for him.

_Morning, Cas. Didn’t hear from you last night after you told me you made it home, so I wanted to check in on you. You doing alright?_

Castiel had purposely not contacted Dean after he’d sent him a message saying he’d made it home safely and that he hadn’t had an emotional breakdown. He didn’t want to be clingy or obnoxious. Dean had said to write him any time he wanted, but Cas was sure he was simply being nice. It was also part of Dean’s end of the contract. Dean had to take care of all of his clients and ensure they weren’t harmed by any of the activities he did with them, or Heavenly Delights could be sued. 

With this in mind, Castiel knew he wasn’t receiving any special treatment, but he couldn’t help but be glad that Dean had initiated contact with him.

He paused before answering. He appreciated text messaging and emails because it gave him the opportunity to craft a prepared response instead of having to risk blurting out something inappropriate the way he did in person. Was he doing alright? Aside from a tender ass cheek where Dean had bitten him, he was physically fine. He wasn’t experiencing any intense anger or confusion the way he had that first night when Dean had talked to him about sub-drop and eased him through it. 

On the surface, he was okay. There was something nagging at him, though; something wasn’t _right_. It was as though there was a missing puzzle piece, but he couldn’t determine what it was.

There was no way he’d be able to express that to Dean. There was so much inside of him, but he’d never had practice in letting anything out. He was too used to and too comfortable with being self-contained, which was part and parcel with growing up as a ‘soldier of God’ in his family’s church. He’d been trained by his mother to always be constant and steady and to never display weakness or doubt.

This hadn’t caused him too much trouble in the past, but it made problems like the one he was currently having more difficult for him than most others, he assumed.

Once he’d given up on putting his feelings into words, he typed up a short message saying that he was fine and that his meeting had been successful but Roman was a pain in the ass. Dean had pried information about his work life out of him yesterday afternoon, so he figured there would be no harm in telling him a little more. Besides, Dean did make for an excellent confidante. He hadn’t judged Castiel when he’d been tied to a bed and half-crazy with lust or when Cas had knelt at his feet, so why would he judge him for complaining about his job?

While waiting for Dean’s response, Castiel rubbed absently at the stinging in his ass, trying to chase the sensation away. It wasn’t painful, just a constant reminder that Dean had been there, that he’d placed his mark on Cas in a small way. Cas knew it was absurd for him to enjoy that feeling as much as he did, and he hated the warm glow that had settled over him when he’d first seen the bite-shaped bruise that morning. 

There was no stopping it, though: he liked the sense that he belonged to Dean somehow, and that was frightening given that he’d only known the man for a couple days.

Logically, he knew this was a result of what they’d done together and the faith that Cas had had to put in Dean’s hands. It was to be expected that he’d develop an attachment to Dean, especially since it was Cas’s first time subbing. 

Still, for a man who had survived over twenty years without forming a strong bond with anyone, this was strange. Strange and scary.

His phone vibrated, and he hurriedly checked to see what Dean had sent him. He congratulated Cas on his successful morning and described how one of his employees, a man named Garth, had just delivered a financial report via sock puppet.

Cas caught himself grinning at his phone at the mental image Dean’s story gave him, as well as the fact that Dean had shared a piece of his life with him. He typed in his response and hesitated momentarily before hitting ‘send’. He’d told Dean how puppets were originally used in ancient India as tools to portray morality tales and represent abstract concepts such as good or evil. 

He loved learning the tiny details of human history but was aware that many didn’t feel the same judging by Meg’s tendency to nod off and Gabe’s habit of running in the opposite direction whenever he tried to talk with either one of them about what interested him. But, Dean hadn’t shown any boredom or annoyance when Cas had rambled about Austen or when they’d watched that nature documentary together, so maybe he wouldn’t mind hearing what Castiel had to say.

Seconds later, Dean answered, saying that Cas had better not try to convince him that Garth’s puppet shows have some deep, artistic meaning and that he heard enough of that ‘hippie crap’ from his baby brother. 

Castiel smiled down at Dean’s words and realized that maybe work didn’t have to be so dreary today.

 

~

Throughout the day, Cas kept in nearly constant communication with Dean. Castiel was normally not a fan of small talk or meaningless chatter, but he was having fun venting to Dean about his work life (dull and overloaded with Dick) and in turn listening to how Dean’s day was going (apparently one of his other employees, Benny, had convinced the sock puppet man that he was a vampire). 

Cas was fairly certain this was Dean’s method of watching out for him and ensuring that he wouldn’t have to go through sub-drop while he was alone. Whatever Dean was doing, Castiel didn’t want it to stop. As the day progressed, that sense of wrongness faded and was replaced with contentment and warmth.

For the first time in ages, his day passed by him in a flash. Usually his days at work crawled at a snail’s pace, but Dean had him so distracted and happy that he felt like he’d only been there for a couple hours when it was time to leave.

When he arrived back at his apartment and saw that Meg was there, he had his cover story planned and ready. He walked inside and saw her waiting for him at their kitchen table with delivery pizza.

“Hey Clarence, long time no see,” she said, eyeing him and swigging down a bottle of beer. It really had been a while. They usually were with each other constantly at the apartment as a result of neither of them having other friends, but he hadn’t spoken to her since he made his safe call. 

“I apologize, Meg. I’ve been distracted with work and family, and-”

“And your boyfriend!” Castiel attempted to justify his extended absence with his sorting-out-family-business-with-Gabriel excuse, but before he could, she said, “Don’t you bullshit me and say you were with Gabe! I called his house when you didn’t answer your cellphone yesterday, and he said he hadn’t seen you all weekend! Unless you camped out at the animal shelter and became one with those cats you love so much, I can’t think of anywhere else you’d have been except with your mystery man.”

Castiel may not have been amazing at picking up on people’s emotions, but he knew she was offended that he’d lied to her. Hurting his friend made his heart clench, but he was definitely not going to give her the full truth. Thinking fast, he said, “You’re right. I spent Saturday night with him, and we hit it off fairly well, so I stayed with him most of Sunday as well. I’m sorry for being dishonest, but it’s not because of you. I simply don’t want to become preoccupied with him because I believe this is a casual relationship with no permanence.” It stung to admit that aloud, but it wasn’t a lie. 

“For real? You, in a ‘casual’ relationship? And again, don’t even think about lying to me ‘cause I know that if you spent the night and all of the next day with him, ‘casual’ means ‘fucking’. That doesn’t seem like the Castiel I know.” 

“I suppose I was on the same wavelength as him, and that’s a rarity for me, so I chose to ‘seize the day’ and stay with him.” Also not a lie.

She stared hard at him before apparently deciding she was satisfied with his explanation. “I wish you had told me that, but I guess I understand where you’re coming from. You wanna keep it low-key, and I’ve got no objection to that. Just no more lies, ‘kay?”

“I understand: no more lies.” Technically, he wasn’t lying. He had been with a man who he wasn’t in a real relationship with, but they had connected on some weird level that Castiel hadn’t anticipated. 

“Good. I know it’s shocking since I’m such a sweet and cuddly individual,” she said, rolling her eyes, “but I don’t exactly have a lot of friends. So, you know, it would kinda suck if you cut me off, and I lost you.”

“I appreciate the sentiment, Meg.” Damn, he was awful at this and was at a loss as to what else he should say. He settled on clasping one of her hands tightly in his, praying she understood how important her friendship was to him.

She’d evidently had enough sharing of the feelings for one night, however. “Stop with the sappiness, Clarence. Let’s get to the fun stuff,” she said, giving him a sultry look. “How was the banging?”

_Fairly standard. He tied me to his bed- one of his beds-, ran a flogger over me, and teased me until I literally begged him for permission to come. The following day I knelt at his feet like a pet before his master and **loved** it. Also: Star Trek._

“It was your typical banging. He did a very nice job,” Castiel said and cringed slightly at the word ‘job.’

“Let me guess, you held hands and cried together while Nickelback played in the background?” He scowled at her, but she pressed on. “Just be careful if he wants you to play around with the kinky shit, Clarence. I’ll let you borrow my copy of _Fifty Shades of Grey_ if you want some tips,” she said teasingly.

He smiled back at her innocently and neglected to inform her that he’d thrown her book into the garbage disposal months ago.

~

The following few weeks passed in a blur. Castiel found himself settling into a routine, only instead of the monotonous, unwelcome routine he’d had pre-Dean, this one gave him more contentment than he could ever remember having. 

He spent every weekend with Dean, beginning Friday evenings whenever he was finished with work until Sunday nights at six. He’d also selected Wednesday as their weeknight together, and every Thursday morning he packed his suit and briefcase along with his usual overnight bag and went to work directly from Dean’s house, often with an ache lingering in his muscles. He turned Dean down each time he offered ibuprofen following a scene (though he was incapable of rejecting a massage); he loved the soreness, the inescapable reminder of Dean. It was comforting, in some twisted way.

As each day went by, Castiel became increasingly at peace with their arrangement. There was that sharp stab of pain in his gut every time he received a message from Crowley demanding payment and every Sunday when Dean reminded him it was time to leave, but he was mostly able to shove that feeling down and ignore it.

Dean helped matters by being so _caring_. Cas had gotten in the habit of texting Dean after each bi-weekly payment because he needed the reassurance that Dean was still willing to talk to him and that he liked Cas on some level beyond ‘client.’

There was the possibility that he was deluding himself and that Dean didn’t actually give a damn, but he always felt better after speaking with Dean, even quick messages just to see how the other’s day was going. He was particularly attentive on Mondays and Thursdays, which thwarted the gloominess Cas felt after leaving him. 

So, for the first time since he started working for Roman, he had something to do other than glare at his watch and wonder how a day could move at a glacial pace, and there was something to look forward to other than an evening of listening to Meg shout obscenities at the television. That could be entertaining, but it didn’t hold a candle to what Dean did to him.

Castiel had half-expected whips and chains, but Dean appeared to favor a lighter touch. Rather than heavy bondage, he used the same soft leather cuffs from their first night together, and instead of canes or paddles, he seemed to relish watching Castiel come undone beneath his bare hands.

After several weekends and weeknights with Dean, Castiel realized that what Dean loved most was making him a needy, shaking wreck. Like that one evening when he spread Castiel’s limbs out on the bed and fingered him open agonizingly slowly, refusing to touch him any place but his hole. He’d pushed in and out of Castiel down to the first knuckle and wouldn’t push back in until Cas begged to be filled again. It had been the sort of sweet torture that made Cas sob with relief when he was finally allowed to come but still hope they would try it again soon. The best part, though, had been the awestruck expression Dean wore when Cas did everything he asked of him and the reverence Dean treated him with afterwards.

It was heaven to let loose with Dean after a week at work, where he kept himself quiet and constrained. The oddest thing was that he never felt freer than when he was kneeling before Dean and fully under his control. 

With Dean, he could be _Cas_ , not Roman’s perfect employee, or Meg’s gay friend that wasn’t quite sassy enough, or his mother’s obedient, but defective, son. Dean didn’t look at him like he was broken for wanting what he did or being who he was, and Castiel was positive he’d never be tired of the sense of belonging Dean gave him.

There was only one thing that Castiel was unsure of, and that was Dean’s palpable reluctance to be rougher with him. Cas had loved everything they’d done so far, adored being laid open and teased for hours with only Dean’s hands, or restrained with only light bindings because, thanks to Dean easing him into using them, they were no longer intimidating and felt almost natural. But, he was ready for _more_ and couldn’t understand Dean’s hesitance. Dean hadn’t even properly fucked him, which as far as Cas knew wasn’t against the rules of Heavenly Delights’ contracts.

Maybe it was because he’d dropped after such a simple, low-intensity scene on their first night, or maybe he wasn’t a good sub and Dean was just tolerating him for the money. Dean always held him and whispered praises in his ear after a scene, but Castiel was aware he may be doing that only to ensure Cas’s health instead of genuine pleasure with Castiel.

Castiel decided that it was time to ask Dean about this on a Wednesday night at the end of their first month together. When he’d arrived at Dean’s that night, he’d been exhausted after an especially aggravating day with Roman. He'd gotten stuck working so late that he'd had to have dinner at the office, which was disappointing since he much preferred eating with Dean. All he had wanted was to turn his brain off for the evening. Dean had picked up on Castiel’s mood minutes after his arrival, so he’d set about helping him instantly.

He had instructed Castiel to change out of his suit, pick out his softest clothes (Cas had become comfortable enough with Dean seeing his body by then that Dean had him naked most of their time together, so this was a change of pace), and then sent him to choose a movie from Dean’s TV cabinet. Sandwiched between _Galaxy Quest_ and _Spaceballs_ was a copy of the 1995 version of _Persuasion_. He’d brought his selection to Dean and voiced his surprise that Dean owned an Austen film.

Dean had blushed sheepishly and said, “Well, you mentioned on the first day we met that you’re an Anne Elliot fan, so I figured I should have something that makes you happy here in case you’re ever having a rainy day.” He’d rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly, looking more nervous than Castiel had ever seen him, and Castiel had wanted nothing more than to tell him, _You make me happy. Being here with you makes my life infinitely better than it ever has been._

As he held closely to him the realization that Dean cared enough to purchase something purely for his happiness and that he'd listened to Cas ever since they met, he had thanked Dean and pulled his pillow off the couch so that he could kneel and rest his head against Dean’s thigh while they watched the movie. He wasn’t as able to lose himself in the story as he might have otherwise, though, and resolved that he’d talk to Dean about his reluctance to push him further once the film was over.

Once the credits began to roll, Cas attempted move from where he was dozing, wrapped around Dean’s leg with his cheek pressed against his thigh, but he was so pleased where he was that this action was proving to be difficult. It couldn’t hurt to wait a few more minutes to speak to Dean. 

“This Jane Austen crap may grow one me. Usually I’d leave that sugary romance shit to my baby brother, but I kinda liked Captain Wentworth.” Dean scratched lightly behind Cas’s ear, and Cas snuggled closer to him in response. “You’re like a cat sometimes, Cas, you know that? Except I actually like you, and you don’t make me sneeze.”

Cas turned to glare at him jokingly for insulting his second favorite animal. “Cats are majestic creatures, but they do inspire strong opinions in people. During the time of the Black Death, they were killed _en masse_ due to their association with ‘evil’, but Hywel Dda, a king in medieval Wales, revered cats and enforced legislation that made harming them illegal.” 

“That may be the case, but they still make my face puff up like a blowfish, which lands them on my blacklist,” Dean said and then patted his lap in invitation. Cas rose to his feet and sat so that they were face-to-face and he was straddling Dean's thighs.

“I have a family obligation this Friday night,” Dean said, gently curling his hands around Cas’s hips. 

Cas tried not to show how disappointed he was upon hearing this news and forced his expression back into one of neutrality. “Oh, that’s no problem. I will simply arrive here Saturday morning instead.”

“Don’t you shut down on me, Cas,” Dean said and tilted his chin up so that Cas was forced to meet his eyes. “We have two options here. The first is, like you said, you come over on Saturday, and uh, Crowley can give you a refund for losing a night.” Cas hoped he wasn’t deceiving himself when he noted a hint of regret in Dean’s tone.

“There’s a second option, though,” Dean said. “You could come with me. It’s a party for my brother; this week, he got his early acceptance into Stanford’s law school. We’re all really proud of him, and my mom’s insisting on celebrating. But, anyway, it’d be…it’d be nice if you came with me, but if that would make you uncomfortable, you sure as hell don’t have to.”

Castiel wasn’t what anyone would call a party-person, but he wanted to be with Dean in any way he could. He did have reservations, however. “Is your family okay with you bringing another man?”

Dean paused almost imperceptibly before answering. “They are. My mom’s known that I’m bi since high school, and when I came out to my brother he actually got all weepy and started rambling to me about how he’ll work for equal rights as a lawyer. So, yeah, those two and my friends are totally fine with it.” Cas thought of Naomi and how she’d reacted when she caught him kissing another boy and couldn’t help but be envious of Dean. 

“I know how lucky I am to have them,” he said and cupped Castiel’s cheek in his palm, rubbing his cheekbone with his thumb. Cas hadn’t told him much about his family other than that they were from Pontiac, Illinois, but he knew that Dean was aware how uneasy he was with every facet of his sexuality. 

Maybe it would be healthy for him to be around people who were more accepting. “I’d like to accompany you to this party. I appreciate you inviting me.” It really did mean the world to Cas that Dean wasn’t ashamed of him and was willing to introduce him to his family.

Dean grinned at him. “No problem, Cas; in all honesty, you’re doing me a huge favor by coming. My mom will be ecstatic that I have a date. Not that it’s a date, I just- well, uh, you know what I mean,” he said, blushing faintly.

Castiel normally adored seeing Dean flustered. The contrast between Dean’s commanding Dom side and the softer side that reared its head sometimes, like when he was caring for Cas following a scene, was something that Castiel treasured. He liked knowing that he wasn’t the only vulnerable one and that Dean wasn’t a perfect, stone-cold man with no chinks in his armor. Now, though, Cas hated that Dean was embarrassed at the idea of Cas being his date.

“I understand,” Cas said tightly. “I’ll be playing the role of ‘Castiel, your pretend boyfriend’, not ‘Cas, your submissive client’ for the evening.”

Dean grimaced when Castiel said this and began tracing his fingers over the sensitive spots he’d mapped out on Castiel’s neck over the past several weeks, which wasn’t fair at all when Cas wanted to be irritated with him. “Those two terms aren’t mutually exclusive, Cas. I wouldn’t drag you to this party with me if I wasn’t able to give you what you want from me at the same time.”

That piqued Castiel’s interest. “Really? What did you have in mind?”

“What fun would it be if I told you? If you really are okay going with me to the party, I’ll tell you Friday night. I have something in mind that I’m confident you’ll like.” 

How was Cas supposed to refuse that? He hadn’t discovered anything yet that he was opposed to, and he trusted Dean not to lead him astray. “Yes, I’m definitely okay with this. I have faith in you.” 

Dean leaned forward and kissed him gently on the mouth, taking Cas by surprise. Kissing was typically not on the menu other than during aftercare when Cas was pliant and half-dazed, but Dean’s lips felt so wonderful pressed against his that he instinctively pressed into the kiss as much as possible, tilting his head in an attempt to get closer.

All too soon, Dean was grasping his shoulders and pushing him back. “Sorry about that,” he murmured, staring at Cas’s mouth.

Cas had no clue what he could be apologizing for, but he went with it. “It’s alright; that was perfectly acceptable.” Much more than _acceptable_. He wished they were still kissing, except maybe with Dean laying on top of him, pressing him down into the couch and pinning his arms above his head…

“Acceptable isn’t very good at all. I’ll make sure that Friday night is more impressive,” he said, ghosting his fingers over Cas’s backside through his pajama pants.

“I expect nothing less from you, sir.” He was certain Dean would come up with something perfect and torturous for him.

Dean kissed him lightly on the neck in response, making Cas's stomach swoop, and Castiel knew that he was a goner.


	9. Chapter 9

Castiel pressed his cheek into the cool surface of Dean’s kitchen table and examined its wood grain pattern out of the corner of his eye so that he wouldn’t have to look at the plug Dean had placed directly in his line of sight. He took deep, measured breaths in an effort to stay calm while Dean slowly worked him open. 

A lube-coated finger traced its way around Castiel’s rim before pushing back into him, making him groan in response. Dean had had him bent over the table for who knew how long, carefully easing into him in preparation for what they’d be trying that night.

“Cas, I wish you could see yourself right now, see yourself the way I do,” Dean said, scissoring his fingers inside Castiel. “You’re damn beautiful. You open up so easily for me, and you’re so _sensitive_.” He traced the back of his hand that wasn’t inside Castiel down Cas’s inner thighs, and Cas jerked against the table in response. 

Dean moved his hand from Cas’s thighs to the small of his back to force his torso flat against the table again. “Be still, Cas. I’m almost finished here, but I need to be certain you’re loosened up nicely before I put the plug in.” 

Castiel hadn’t been positive if Dean was seriously concerned about him being loose enough or if he was simply teasing, but that question was answered for him when Dean purposefully crooked his fingers against his prostate. “I’m ready, sir. Please, put it in.”

“Patience, Cas. You may be ready, but I’m a little slower than you. I think I need a little longer to appreciate the view from back here.” Cas couldn’t imagine that he looked very attractive with his pants and boxers at his ankles, bent over a table with his ass bared, holding his own cheeks wide open, but he shuddered in response to Dean’s words and tried to push back further onto his fingers.

Dean _tsk-ed_ at him. “Not right now, Cas. Good idea, though; I know I’d love to watch you fuck yourself on my fingers.” He pulled out to grab the plug and drizzle lube onto it. “You’re kinda pushy tonight, though; nervous?”

“Perhaps,” he admitted shakily as he felt the pressure of the plug against his entrance. “Social interactions aren’t exactly my forte.” It wasn’t that he didn’t like people; people just generally thought he was strange and maybe a little off-putting. This usually didn’t bother him too much, but the possibility of disappointing Dean or Dean’s family disliking him scared him.

“Don’t worry about that. I’ll be there with you the whole time,” Dean said, slowly pushing the bulbous head of the plug inside Cas, “and they don’t bite. They’re nothing like me.”

Since he had his face buried into the table to suppress the whimpers that were trying to escape him, Cas couldn’t see Dean, but he could just sense the cocky grin Dean was inevitably wearing. “Did you really just make a joke about biting me? What’s next-”

His words were abruptly cut off when Dean pushed the plug all the way in and tilted it so that it hit Cas’s prostate. He whined into the table, and Dean said, “What were you saying? I know you weren’t making fun of me, right?”

“I would never do such a thing, sir.”

“Of course not,” Dean said smoothly. He toweled the excess lube off of Cas and stood directly behind him, clasping his hips. “I can tell you still don’t believe me, but you really are gorgeous like this.” He pressed a thumb against Cas’s rim alongside the plug, and Castiel again tried to push back onto him. “You’re so greedy. Just wanna have something filling your ass, don’t you?”

“I think I’d prefer your cock, sir, but this will suffice for now.” Shit, he should not have said that.

“Jesus,” Dean muttered. He quickly pulled Cas’s pants back up to his waist and helped him stand, and then he took the remote that could make the plug vibrate and pocketed it in his suit.

Castiel paused for a moment and adjusted to the feeling of the plug. It was fairly small, no bigger than several of Dean’s fingers, but the sensation was peculiar. He was accustomed to having something inside him, but only when he was already aroused and when Dean would (usually) be letting him come soon. Not for extended periods of time and definitely not in public. It was weird, but he liked it.

Dean observed him carefully and said, “Are you okay?”

“Yes, sir. Bright green.” 

“Awesome.” Dean took Castiel’s hand and turned his palm upwards, laying a small pager onto it. “Since we’ll be in public, press the button on this pager if you're not liking something; it’ll work as your safeword. That way you won’t have to say ‘honeybee’ or any of the traffic light colors in public. No matter what, if you press the button, I’ll stop any vibration and take you someplace private in case you want the plug taken out.

He continued, “Also, this goes without saying, but you won’t be calling me ‘sir’ tonight.”

Cas nodded his understanding. Dean had informed him earlier of what to expect; he had told his family they had been dating casually for the past month, which they both agreed was the easiest explanation. Castiel resolutely refused to acknowledge the lightness in his heart that their cover story gave him.

Dean led them out of the kitchen and swept through the foyer, collecting both of their suit jackets and his car keys. Castiel watched him admiringly as he did so; Dean usually dressed casually while they were together, so when he'd come downstairs in a suit and tie, Cas had gone a little weak-kneed.

Dean held out Cas’s jacket and assisted him in putting it on and then spun Cas around so that their chests were close together. He said, “You know your tie is backwards?”

Cas felt himself flush. He had never gotten the hang of tying it properly, a fact that Roman berated him for almost daily. “I’m sorry, I know it’s sloppy…” he trailed off, reaching for the tie in an attempt to fix it.

Dean’s hand reached his and stopped him. “Leave it. I like it the way it is. It’s very _you_.”

Warmth flooded Cas’s chest at Dean’s words, and he let Dean lead him out to the Impala in a happy daze. He hadn’t ridden in the Impala before (or Baby, as Dean referred to her), but he knew that Dean loved his car in the way Cas loved the animals at the shelter. He treated her with the same care and attention one would give a living creature. 

Castiel slid into the Impala, jolting slightly as he sat with the plug inside for the first time. He shifted until he found a position that didn’t stimulate his prostate and let out a sigh of relief. This would be manageable. Dean wouldn’t let him be humiliated in public, and he was confident that Dean knew his body well enough that he wouldn’t push Cas too far.

Dean sat behind the steering wheel and put the car into gear after popping in a cassette labelled _Led Zeppelin IV_ , which Castiel had developed an affection for ever since the morning he'd come downstairs for breakfast and walked in on Dean dancing and singing along to 'Misty Mountain Hop.' They rode in companionable silence for several minutes and listened to Robert Plant crooning about tired eyes on the sunrise until Dean he asked, “You’re okay with this, right Cas?”

“Yes, sir. If I become overloaded and need us to stop in order to regroup or talk, I press the button on my pager, which will set yours off and alert you.” 

“That’s great, and don’t hesitate to use it if you need to, but that wasn’t what I meant. Are you still comfortable going to this with me and meeting my family?”

“I am. Promise.” He was slightly anxious, but that was to be expected. Making a good impression on Dean’s family was important to him for reasons he wasn’t eager to examine, but despite Dean’s assurances that everyone would like him, he was apprehensive. 

Cas glanced over at Dean to see his reaction and saw that he had the steering wheel clenched in a white-knuckle grip. He had been a bit tense all evening. Normally, he was warm yet authoritative, but tonight he’d been stricter than usual, controlling all of Cas’s movements and keeping conversation at a minimum. This didn’t bother Cas since he rather enjoyed kneeling quietly for Dean while Dean hand-fed him, letting his mind wander and his body thrum with anticipation for what Dean had planned for the evening. Still, it wasn’t what he’d come to expect from Dean.

Perhaps he regretted inviting Cas out tonight.

Cas asked, “Are you alright? You’ve seemed slightly…off all night.”

Dean frowned at this and said, “Sorry, Cas. I’m fine, seriously.”

Bullshit. “Your body language and demeanor would indicate otherwise. You’re gripping the wheel like it’s personally offended you, and you’ve been much quieter than usual. You haven’t even compared me to a kitten or a Vulcan this evening.” Cas hoped he wasn’t overstepping any boundaries and that Dean wouldn’t be offended. Dean said he always wanted to Cas to speak his mind if he was worried about anything, though, and right now he was concerned about his Dom’s well-being, so maybe he wasn’t being too forward.

Apparently he needn’t have worried. Dean hard expression cracked, and he rested a hand on Cas’s thigh. “You win, Cas. I’m not upset about anything, especially not anything you’ve done, but I am a little nervous about tonight. It’s been a long time since I’ve brought anyone to meet my family, and since I know you’re not a big fan of crowds or parties, I’m hoping they, uh, mind their manners, so to speak.”

Mind their manners? Why would Dean be troubled by that thought? “You think they won’t like me?” It wasn’t too difficult for Cas to imagine they might be put off by him. People didn’t always warm up to him, particularly not like Dean had.

Dean barked out a sarcastic laugh. “No, Cas, I’m not at all concerned that they won’t like you. I can guarantee you that’s one thought that didn’t enter my mind.” Not once taking his eyes of the road, he muttered, “I’m afraid they’ll probably like you too much.”

Cas's mouth dropped open at Dean’s words but was shut with a yelp when Dean drove over a speed bump much faster than necessary, making Cas bounce in his seat when the plug brushed against him perfectly. Well, perfectly if he was home with Dean instead of going to meet Dean’s family.

After growling ineffectively and receiving nothing but an unimpressed glance, he sat silently until Dean parked in front of one of San Francisco’s several Hiltons. Cas wondered why Dean was Domming for money when he clearly had enough for a beautiful town home and a party for his brother at a luxury hotel. He’d be eternally thankful that Dean was working for Gabe’s company since they never would have met otherwise, but Cas did have to question why. 

His thoughts were interrupted when Dean came around and opened the passenger door for him. Accepting the hand Dean offered him, he said, “You’re being such a gentleman tonight.” Cas was certainly no fainting princess, but he couldn’t deny that he enjoyed the possessive hand Dean placed on the small of his back as he was guided to the hotel entrance. 

“I figure I owe you since you’ll be putting up with my friends and family the rest of the night. Beware the ginger and her girlfriend. Don’t trust anything they say,” Dean warned as they entered the lobby. Right after the words left his mouth, Cas saw a petite redhead, along with a tall, elegant woman wearing an expensively-cut dress and clutching a martini, strutting in their direction. 

Hurriedly, Dean whispered in his ear, saying, “The ginger’s Charlie; she’s my best friend. The one with the martini that thinks she’s James Bond is Bela, her girlfriend.”

As soon as they were close enough, Charlie threw her arms around Dean’s neck and said, “Dean, you brought Cas! You didn’t chicken out.” She elbowed Bela and waggled her eyebrows suggestively. “I was right. You owe me now. And you know what that means…”

Bela sighed exasperatedly. “Yes, I know. I’ll get my slave Leia costume out right when we get home, darling.” She narrowed her eyes at Dean. “You couldn’t have been a coward like I expected and backed out at the last minute? I was counting on you, Dean. You were my ticket to a night at the ballet, but since you failed me, I’ll be stuck Star Wars role playing.” 

Dean grinned at the two of them, and Cas could see the tension drain out of him. “I’m just glad I could help Charlie get out of taking you to a ballet.”

Castiel didn’t know what to make of any of this, particularly not the fact that they already knew his name and had apparently been taking bets on him. It was probably time for him to say something, though, instead of standing uselessly at Dean’s side. “Ballet is actually wonderful, Dean. It’s one of the most strenuous sports there is and one of the most beautiful art forms, in my opinion.” 

Dean groaned exaggeratedly, and Bela said, “Excellent. It’ll be lovely to have someone else around with decent taste. One can only watch _Star Wars_ and _Firefly_ so many times without growing tired of it all.”

Bela scanned Castiel appraisingly and gave him a satisfied nod when she’d seemingly decided he was up to her standards. “Has he made you do anything with _Star Trek_ yet, Castiel? I pray for your sake that he doesn’t find the ‘slutty Spock’ costume Charlie uncovered on some godforsaken corner of the internet.”

“That’s enough! Come on, Cas, let’s go find literally anyone else,” Dean said, grasping Cas’s elbow and tugging him out of the lobby and down a hallway lined with conference halls and ballrooms.

“But I didn’t get to talk to him, Dean! Bring him back!” Charlie shouted after them. 

“Nope, that was it for the night. You lost your chance,” Dean called over his shoulder before pulling Cas into one of the ballrooms. 

The room was crammed full. College-age people were milling about in groups, some of them standing and swaying to a pop song Castiel had never head, others crowded around the tables that dotted the room. Dean had said to expect this since Sam had invited most of his friends from college, but being in a stuffy, packed room immediately put Cas on edge. He heard Dean grousing beside him about 'the youths' and their shitty taste in music.

When Castiel didn't respond to his complaints, he took Cas’s hand in his and squeezed gently. “How are you doing? Charlie and Bela didn’t freak you out too much, did they?”

“No. I liked them and thought they were funny, especially Bela.” He thought Bela may have been the sort of person he could be friends with if he were to ever see her again. He’d have to ask Dean about why they were betting on him later, but now wasn’t the time.

“Well, I’ve gotta say, I’m relieved to hear you say that, Cas. They can be a little, uh, overwhelming. Hope you like everyone else tonight, too.” He wrapped an arm around Cas’s shoulders, and Cas automatically leaned into the embrace, seeking the comfort Dean always brought. It worked like a charm, and within seconds Cas began to feel more at ease in the crowd. 

A young man that towered above the rest of the party was making his way toward them with a golden-haired woman at his side.

“That’s Sam and his girlfriend, Jess.” Dean began shoving through the crowd, Cas in tow, in their direction to meet them halfway.

Castiel noted the huge smile on Sam’s face and the way he was nearly running over to them. “You’re brother looks…”

“Like a giraffe? Yeah, I know, he’s a giant. He eats like one, too. He probably picked leaves off a tree for dinner.”

“I was going to say he looks very excited and joyful to see you, but yes, giraffe’s an apt description, too.”

Sam quickly made it to Dean and tore him from Castiel’s side to sweep him up in a bear hug. “Dean, it’s great to see you, man. It’s been way too long,” he said. Cas was surprised at Sam’s remark that it had ‘been too long.’ Dean didn’t speak very much about his family to Cas, or about his personal life in general, really, but when he did it was always with such tenderness and fondness that Cas assumed they were together frequently. 

“I know, Sammy. I hate it, but I’ve been so busy with work, and you’ve been studying constantly,” Dean said, shrugging his shoulders when Sam released him. 

“We’ll make time soon, right?” Sam said uncertainly. Dean just gave him a small, tight smile and nodded at him. A fraught moment passed where they both stood silently, shifting awkwardly. 

A pang of guilt shot through Cas because he was the reason Dean was so busy with work. He was occupying Dean’s weekends, excluding the gap Saturday afternoons when he was at the animal shelter, along with one of his weeknights, and he was now invading a party for his brother. He knew it was irrational to feel that way since Dean was choosing to be with him- to work for him, Cas reminded himself- but he hated that he was part of anything that tore Dean from his family.

Jessica broke the tension, saying, “Dean, you know how happy we both are to see you, but how about you introduce us to your date?”

Dean gave her a thankful look and said, “Sure. Sam, Jess, this is Cas.”

He shook hands with Jess, smiling and hoping he didn’t seem too out of place. He turned to Sam next, but Sam ignored the offered hand and pulled him into a hug.

“So glad you’re here, Cas. Thanks for coming out tonight.” He gave Cas one last bone-cracking squeeze that nearly lifted him off the ground before saying, “Dean’s hid you from us for about a month now, so I think it’s past time that we met. Jess and I’ve got a table; will you guys come and talk to us for a while so we can catch up?” Cas waited for Dean's answer since he knew Sam was really addressing his brother. 

“We’d love to, Sammy.” Sam led them to a small table in a corner, one of the few that wasn’t occupied by Sam’s friends. Cas sat down delicately but still jumped when the plug brushed against him just right.

“You okay, Cas?” Jess asked.

“Yes, I’m fine. I simply thought I saw a bug and wanted to avoid stepping on it.” He heard Dean laugh under his breath at his excuse and glared at him weakly.

Jessica said, “Oh no, Dean, you didn’t tell me he’s like _this_.” Cas was worried he’d done something wrong until Jess grinned at him. “Sam’s the same way. I found a cockroach in the bathtub one day, and he insisted we rescue it by gently picking it up and carrying it back outside.”

Dean rolled his eyes. “Sam, that’s just crazy. If a bug enters your home, I think you have the god-given right to kill it before it crawls into your ear and lays eggs or something. Even Cas wouldn’t do that, right Cas?”

“Of course not, Dean. The right to slay bugs is listed in the Constitution; it’s next to the less important ones, like free speech.” Dean scowled at him jokingly, and Cas saw him reach into his pocket for the first time since they’d arrived at the hotel.

“Cas, as you’ll soon discover, is nowhere near as shy as he acts when you first meet him. He’s very blunt, to say the least.” Right then he felt a slow, but powerful, vibration, and he barely stopped himself from groaning aloud. 

Sam said, “I think that’s awesome. You need someone strong and very tolerant to put up with you, Dean.”

Cas tuned out Dean’s response as their conversation devolved into brotherly sniping back and forth. Dean mercifully eased off on the vibration, and Cas noticed with no small amount of relief that Dean had chosen a seat for him that concealed his lap from the other side of the table, which concealed his erection. 

He turned to Jess but wasn’t certain how to initiate conversation with her. Thankfully, she did the work for him. “I don’t think we need to listen to their arguing, Cas. We can talk to each other.” 

_Don’t fuck this up, don’t fuck this up, don’t fuck this up._ Cas smiled at Jessica tentatively and said, “Are you going to law school as well?”

“No, definitely not. I could never handle being a lawyer or going to law school. I'd go crazy just trying to read all of those law books.” She shook her head. “Ideally, I’ll be going to Stanford with Sam and studying at their grad school chem program.”

“I love science, too. You’re a chemist?” Cas was more of a biology person, but studying the natural world was what he’d dreamed of before his mother pushed him into studying economics and accounting because of its practicality. 

“I wish I could call myself a chemist, but right now I’m more of a chemist-in-training. I’m mainly interested in environmental chemistry.”

“Really? I’ve always found that subject fascinating,” Cas said enthusiastically. Jessica excitedly began describing the research she was working on with one of her professors, happily answering all of Cas’s questions and listening to his ideas as well. In Cas’s eyes, this was a small miracle; he’d somehow made a friend who not only tolerated his curiosity but encouraged and returned it. They talked together while the plug sent pleasant little sparks through Castiel each time he moved, until he noticed that Sam and Dean had stopped speaking to each other.

He looked over at them and saw that Dean was openly staring at him with such a soft, tender expression that Cas almost wanted to look away. Dean was _never_ that obviously affectionate. He was definitely caring and always ensured that Cas was happy and well taken care of, but he wasn’t one for sappy, loving gazes. Castiel knew he was blushing but didn’t know how else to respond, so he pretended to be enthralled by the group of Sam’s friends that had huddled together in a nearby corner. 

Sam coughed loudly. “So, Dean, what were you saying? That you’re just-”

“Can it, Sammy,” Dean snarled, clearly broken of whatever spell he’d been under before. “Cas and I have places to be now, if you two will excuse us.” He quickly stood, clasping Cas’s hand in his and hauling him up as well. Castiel wasn’t annoyed by this, but he was mystified by the sudden change in Dean’s mood. 

“Goodbye Jess, Sam,” Cas said with a little wave before letting Dean take him away. 

“Sorry about that,” Dean muttered as they weaved through groups of college students.

“Sorry about what? I had a great time talking to Jessica. She’s brilliant; has she told you about her research?”

“Vaguely. I’m not as smart as you guys, though, so she probably dumbed it down for me.” Well that was nonsense. Cas recognized that Dean may not have shared his and Jess’s enthusiasm for science, but he was absolutely one of the most intelligent people that Cas had met. He almost told Dean this right then, but Sam’s party wasn’t the place to discuss something that may upset him. 

Cas remembered Dean cutting Sam off and abruptly leaving the table and thought that may be a safe thing to ask about. “What was Sam saying before you interrupted him?”

Dean didn’t answer as he peered through the crowd and spotted an isolated bench in a darkened corner of the room. He pulled Cas in its direction and sat down, gesturing for Cas to sit close to him. “He wasn’t saying anything important,” he said as he slid an arm around Cas. “Nothing that’ll impact you.”

Cas couldn’t determine whether he was lying or not but chose to let it go for the time being. “Where’s your mom? You said it was her who wanted to have a celebration for Sam.”

“She got stuck working late at the hospital. She’s a trauma nurse, so sometimes she can’t leave on schedule when they’re short on staff and there’s an emergency. I know she hates being late for Sam, but she’ll never leave work if people need her. She texted me while you and Jess were talking, though, and will be here in about an hour.” He grinned wickedly at Cas. “That means I need to get down to business.” Immediately when he finished speaking, the vibration began again, this time stronger than it had been.

Cas moaned involuntarily as Dean said, “Better be quiet, Cas. Can’t have anyone knowing that good, respectable Castiel Milton loves having his ass filled up.” Cas took a deep breath in through his nose, torn between trying to ease the pressure building inside or accepting and sinking into it. 

“They might already know. You’ve been wiggling around and jolting up in the air each time you sit down. You may be pretty good at hiding how you feel, but now everything’s written clearly on your face.” He pulled the remote out of his suit pocket and turned the dial as high as possible.

Cas pressed his face into Dean’s shoulder to muffle the undignified sounds spilling out of his mouth. Dean pulled away, saying, “What have I told you about hiding any part of yourself from me? I want to _hear_ you, Cas.”

Castiel did as told, tilting his head back so that his throat was bared, and let himself pant and moan freely. The thought that anyone could pass by their bench and see him flushed and unrestrained made his cock throb. 

“God, Cas, you’re always so good for me, trusting me to take care of you,” Dean whispered, pressing a kiss to the pulse point on Cas’s neck. “This is how I want you, absolutely shameless and completely open to me.”

Cas crossed his legs to alleviate the pressure building but cried out loudly when that only shifted the plug so that it was directly on his prostate. 

“Dean, please, I can’t…”Cas said, praying Dean understood what he meant when he couldn’t force anymore words out. He’d wanted the thrill of subbing semi-publicly with Dean, had loved the excitement that came with the idea of being caught, but he didn’t want to come with anyone else around but Dean.

“Good boy. I don’t want anyone else hearing how pretty you sound when you come.” Dean turned the vibration back to a lower setting and stood. “Follow me,” he said, taking Cas’s hands in his and quickly leading him out of the party room.

As Dean led him deeper down the hallway, the stretch of conference halls changing into guest suites, Cas was reaching his breaking point. Dean had never pushed him too far, but Cas knew he wasn’t going to be able to keep himself from coming much longer.

Dean abruptly stopped in front of a door near the hall’s end and opened it, revealing a spacious suite with a bed backed up against the wall and a seating area with a coffee table, couch, and a couple chairs before it. "I had this room reserved for my friend, Bobby, but his wife's sick, so they couldn't make it. The room's ours now."

Dean directed Cas over to the seating area. “Take off your jacket and shirt, lay them on the table, then hop up on the couch and bend over the back of it.” While Cas did this, Dean ducked into the bathroom and came back with a towel, which he draped over the couch’s back.

After he had done that, he came to stand directly behind Cas. He palmed Cas’s clothed ass and then hooked his fingers under the waistband of Cas’s pants. “Castiel, I’m going to pull your clothes down and then remove the plug. Then I want to see you make yourself come without touching your cock. Show me how much you want this.”

Cas shivered as Dean pulled his pants and boxers down. He bucked upwards when Dean teased around his rim and slowly eased the plug out, but forced himself to keep still once Dean laid a hand firmly on the small of his back.

“Good. Take as long as you need. Work at whatever speed you like best. I’ll be right behind you, watching you.” Cas felt the hand leave his back and heard Dean sit in one of the chairs that faced the couch.

Castiel used his left hand to hold himself open and then turned to see Dean. Knowing that he was being watched so closely only made him more desperate, but the confident, hungry expression Dean wore emboldened him. He pushed his hips outwards to give Dean a better view, and he took his right hand and felt his way around his entrance. 

He was loose and slick from the plug, so he was able to quickly push two fingers in. This was the first time he had ever felt around inside himself aside from a couple brief attempts in the shower, so he was stunned at how amazing he could make himself feel. 

Following what Dean did to him, he found his prostate and brushed his fingers against it lightly and then applied more force, which made him cry out. He chased that sensation eagerly, pushing a third finger inside. It felt fucking wonderful, and he could feel that tight heat coiling within him and building up to a crescendo much quicker than usual thanks to the plug keeping him ready and on edge for the past hour. 

After easily slipping a fourth finger inside, he rotated his hips, which made rubbing against his prostate even better. He barely kept himself from rutting against the couch, but he couldn’t help falling forward slightly. The friction against his cock pushed him over the edge, and he came messily across the towel. His legs gave out, and he rested his weight fully against the couch, uncaring that he was smearing come over his stomach

Dean rose to stand beside him and stroked his spine, muttering a litany of _good, so good_ and giving him a minute to catch his breath. After a moment, Dean grasped his shoulders, gently helping him upright, and maneuvered him so that he was lying back on the couch. 

After Cas was settled, Dean retrieved a bottle of juice from the room's mini-fridge. He came back to Cas, uncapped the bottle, and held it up to his lips for him to drink. Once he’d drunk almost the entire bottle and felt his awareness coming back to him, he looked down at Dean and saw that he was still hard. Cas heard Dean telling him how proud he was and trying to pull him in close to his chest, but Castiel didn’t want that tonight, not yet. He wanted to _serve_ Dean, to bring him as much pleasure as he always gave Cas.

Disentangling himself from Dean’s arms, he said, “Dean, can I- can I please suck you off?” He gave Dean his best puppy eyes, hoping Dean would understand how much he needed this. Dean always took such good care of him, and Cas wanted to give back to him, show him how much he appreciated what Dean did for him.

Dean’s eyes widened and his mouth dropped open in surprise. He quickly adjusted back into a controlled expression, though, and said quietly, “Yes, you can. Keep your hands either at your side or hold onto my legs. I want you to use only your mouth for this.”

He sunk to his knees and perched between Dean’s legs. He made quick work of undoing Dean’s belt and unzipping his fly. Cas only hesitated for a moment before releasing his erect cock from his boxers and then bunched up the fabric of Dean’s pants in his hands so that he would remember not to use them. Dean reached out and held the back of Cas’s head gently with both hands.

He started out tentatively with a kiss to the head of Dean’s cock, tongue darting out for a taste. Dean had only allowed him to do this a couple times before, and those attempts hadn’t been very successful. After choking when he’d tried to swallow Dean down on those first tries, Dean had thanked him and said no one was the ‘King of Deepthroat’ immediately, but he wanted to do this _right_ tonight.

Castiel mouthed at Dean’s balls with his lips and sucked on them gently, encouraged by the steady stream of praises Dean murmured and the way his hands shifted downwards to flex tightly around Cas’s neck. He licked a stripe from the base to the head and lapped at the pre-come steadily flowing out of his slit.

A spasm shot through Dean’s legs when Castiel looked up through his lashes at Dean’s face, and that alone was enough for him to shift from hesitant licks to wrapping his lips around the head of Dean’s cock. 

Remembering how he’d failed when he’d gone too fast, he slowly worked his way down, this time taking Dean in deeply without choking himself. His eyes watered as he swallowed around the base of Dean’s cock, nuzzling his nose into the coarse hair there. It was worth it when Dean squeezed the back of his neck and whispered, “Good, Cas, you’re doing awesome.”

Once he was accustomed to the feeling of Dean in his mouth, he picked up a steady rhythm, bobbing his head up and down and swirling his tongue around the length of his cock. Dean’s hands left his neck and came to rest on top of his head, and when Cas clamped his lips around the head of Dean’s cock and sucked _hard_ , he gripped Cas’s hair and yanked backwards sharply, exposing Cas’s throat again and forcing him to look up at Dean. 

Carefully maintaining eye contact, Castiel licked at his slit with broad, firm strokes until Dean’s legs twitched under his hands. With a loud moan, more than Cas had ever heard from Dean, he came on Cas’s face, painting his chin and lips with come. 

Cas knees gave out, and he collapsed against Dean’s legs, letting go of the bundles of Dean’s pants he’d had in a vise grip and placing his palms against his own thighs. He watched, blissed-out as though he was the one who’d just had an orgasm, as Dean ran a finger through the come striping Cas’s jawline and held it up to Castiel’s parted lips. Instinctively, Cas darted his tongue out and licked Dean’s finger clean.

“You’re gorgeous, Cas, absolutely fucking gorgeous. I love seeing you on your knees for me, knowing that you _want_ to be there.” He leaned in to kiss Cas’s forehead and, holding Cas’s hands in his, said, “Thank you.”

Cas hummed contentedly because, really, there was no place he’d rather be.

~

"And you're certain no one could have seen me?" Cas asked. He had his body curled around Dean’s, his arm thrown around Dean’s waist and his head resting over Dean’s chest so that he could hear his heartbeat. After Dean had cleaned them both with a warm washcloth and dressed Castiel again, they’d settled in on the couch for the post-scene cuddling that Cas loved way more than he’d ever openly acknowledge.

"I'm positive. I took us to a corner of the room no one else was in and that nobody was paying attention to, Sam's crap music was loud enough that there's no way someone could have heard you, and I was keeping an eye out the whole time. No worries, Cas."

Castiel nodded and burrowed closer into Dean. He'd had faith in Dean but still needed confirmation that nobody could have seen him. The idea of having an audience thrilled him, but he didn't actually want anybody except Dean to see him that way. “So…how did I do? With the-” 

“You were awesome, Cas,” Dean said, lifting his arm from Cas’s shoulder to card a hand through his hair soothingly. “But, you were awesome your first couple tries, too.”

“I choked on you during my previous efforts.” There was no way he had done well before. Dean may have held him and spoken to him appreciatively afterwards, but that was simply because he was Dean and that’s what he did.

“I know you did, but that’s not the point. I’ll never expect you to be perfect, and regardless of what porn wants you to believe, no one’s instantly a pro at giving blow jobs. What does matter is that you _tried_. Every single time we’ve scened together, you put your all into it. You’ve never given me less than one-hundred percent. To me, the fact that you care, that you _want_ to be here, and that you trust me and follow my lead…that is way more important than if you can give some ‘perfect’ blowjob.”

This was what always got Cas in trouble. When Dean spoke like that and gave him the praise he craved, like Cas was important to him, Castiel really struggled to remember that what they had wasn’t a genuine relationship. He could almost feel all of his rationality taking a nosedive and being swept away by Dean’s words.

Ignoring the stinging behind his eyes, Cas said, “Of course I trust you. You’ve been so good to me ever since we met, and if I can give even a tenth of that back to you, I want to.” Dean was always controlled enough to lead Cas through a scene and get him off while setting his own needs aside. Being someone’s top priority, even if only for a night, was amazing, but sometimes Castiel just needed to serve Dean.

Castiel emitted an indignant squeak when Dean suddenly turned him around so that they were facing each other. Dean said, “You give to me every time we’re together. Yeah, it takes a different form than what I do for you, but take my word for it when I say your pleasure is my pleasure. Tying you to the bed or spreading you out on the couch for me, watching you hand over your control to me because you have faith in me, or even something simple like hand feeding you breakfast and knowing how much you like my cooking makes me happy.”

He continued, “Seeing you grow over the past month and become more confident with your body and your desires is what I love best. Knowing that I’ve helped you in some way and that you’ve trusted me with this part of you…well, it means a whole lot to me.”

Castiel was speechless. He couldn’t even form a coherent thought, let alone string a sentence together. Thankfully, Dean did that for him. “Are we clear? No more thinking that you don’t do anything for me, alright?”

“Yes, we’re clear. Crystal.” 

Dean shot him an easy grin and detached himself from Cas so that he could stand. He’d seemingly reached his limit for sharing emotions. “Good. Ready to go meet my mom?”

“She’s here?” And Dean had just sat there calmly with him while his mom was there? He’d wasted more time with Cas that he could’ve had with his mother.

“Yeah, she’s been here about twenty minutes. She texted me while you were finishing your juice.” Guilt started creeping in on Cas; he’d kept Dean from his family again. Dean had really become too skilled at reading him, though, because he promptly brushed those worries aside.

“Relax, Cas. I wanted to give Sammy some time alone with her. It’s his party, and he deserves to have the spotlight. Also, you should know by now that I’m not leaving you right after a scene. Doesn't matter what else is happening, I'm not going to ditch you.”

Cas’s heart felt so light that he thought it may fly out of his chest. Dean grabbed his hands, towing him off the couch, and quickly took him out of the suite and back into the hallway. As they were rounding the corner that opened onto the lobby, they ran right into a older blonde woman.

“Mom!” Dean exclaimed as he was immediately pulled into a hug. “We were just coming to find you.”

She let Dean go and turned so that she was looking at Cas as well. “I got tired of waiting and decided I should go find you two instead. I can’t have you hiding Castiel from me all night.” She gave Cas a scrutinizing once-over before casting him a warm, very familiar, smile.

“Castiel, it’s wonderful to meet you,” she said, startling Cas by giving him a hug as well. This one, at least, wasn’t as bone-crushing as Sam’s.

He cautiously squeezed her back. “I’m happy to meet you, too, Mrs. Winchester.”

“Please, call me Mary.” She released him and said, “Cas, I’d love to get to know you. Dean’s told me so many good things about you, but I’d like to speak to you firsthand. There’s a little hotel restaurant we could go to if you have time? I don’t know about you, but I’m ready to let Sam have fun with his friends and have a quieter night talking to my son and his boyfriend.”

Cas couldn’t help grinning at the word ‘boyfriend’ and the way her green eyes shone just like Dean's. He answered, “I’d very much enjoy that. I think Dean would, too. I seem to recall him grumbling about the ‘youths’ earlier.” 

Dean growled at him playfully as Mary led them to the restaurant. “They’re disrespectful and have bad taste in music. If I have to hear Igloo Australia one more time…”

“I’m sure you know, Cas, that music died in the eighties according to my son,” Mary whispered conspiratorially to Cas while they walked.

“Yes, we worshipped at the altar of Plant and Page on the ride here,” Cas said, laughing, and then squawked loudly when Dean pulled him in by the waist only to tweak the ticklish spot he’d discovered on Cas’s side weeks ago. 

Mary just beamed at them both like nothing pleased her more than seeing them together. As they sat down to eat and Mary began to ask Castiel about his volunteer work at the shelter, Castiel realized he was well and truly fucked if he wanted to keep pretending he liked Dean on a purely professional level.


	10. Chapter 10

A week after the party, Castiel entered an empty apartment after work to the shrill sound of the phone ringing. He quickly tossed his briefcase on the kitchen counter and picked up the phone. 

“Masters and Milton Residence, this is Castiel speaking.”

“Castiel, dear, it’s wonderful to hear your voice again! What’s it been, nine months since you’ve spoken to me?” Naomi said.

Castiel’s blood went cold at the sugary sweetness of his mother’s voice. She was correct: it had been a long while since they’d spoken, but hearing from her still sent his good mood spiraling downwards. 

He collapsed on the couch, clutching the phone to his ear in a white knuckle grip and trying to collect his scattered thoughts enough to figure out what to say to her, and heard a drawn-out sigh of annoyance. “Castiel, are you refusing to speak to me?”

He briefly contemplated hanging up and then emailing her later, claiming their connection had somehow been broken, but decided it would be best to talk to her now and be done with it. “No mother, I’m here and ready to talk. How are you doing?” He found himself, as always, incapable of being anything less than polite to her. 

“I’m fine, thank you for asking. I hope you're doing well, too.” Castiel started to try and tell her about the pay raise he’d received that day as a result of his hard work, but she cut in before he could. “I’d be doing better, though, if my beloved son hadn’t run away to California with his older brother.”

Even though they hadn’t spoken in the past nine months, Castiel could remember this habit of his mother’s clearly. Gabriel no longer had the honor of being referred to as Naomi’s son; instead, he was Castiel’s unnamed older brother, spoken of dispassionately and disdainfully. He certainly wasn’t as high on Naomi’s blacklist as Lucifer, but he wasn’t to be openly discussed. 

“I apologize, mother. I believe that overall the move has proven to be a prudent decision, however. I actually received a pay raise today, and Mr. Roman has been hinting lately that I may soon be up for a promotion.”

“That’s nice, dear.” Castiel could clearly envision her eyes rolling and her nose crinkling in contempt. “You should be grateful that you followed my advice and studied economics instead of biology. Thanks to me, you’re a moderately successful young businessman; you could be unemployed or taking orders from twelve-year old girls at a Starbucks instead.”

Castiel often felt that he’d prefer Starbucks to working for Roman, but there was no need to vocalize this to Naomi. She was right, after all; he should be thankful that she’d provided for him throughout college and steered him in a more practical direction than what he’d wanted.

“Yes, of course I appreciate all of the guidance you’ve given me over the years.” 

“I have a difficult time believing that since you haven’t bothered contacting me since January, but I suppose I’ll trust your word on it. You haven’t managed to get yourself thrown out on the street yet at least, so I assume you’re doing something alright.”

Maybe she would be pleased if she knew he was one of Roman’s top employees. “Mr. Roman has said that I’m currently one of his best-”

“Be modest, Castiel. Bragging about your achievements is not a virtue,” she reprimanded, and Castiel’s heart sunk. 

Voice barely above a whisper, he said, “I apologize, mother.”

She laughed airily. “I’m just glad that you’re not on your brother’s level. He’s left me voice messages on a monthly basis describing, in vivid detail I might add, his…exploits in San Francisco. Tell me, has he introduced you to a ‘magical dragon’ deemed ‘Puff’ or a club called the Glitter Factory?”

“No?” Gabriel rarely wanted anything to with Castiel; the only occasions they met up were when there was a family issue that needed discussing, like how they should manage the savings account they had set up for Anna.

“Keep it that way. Do make sure to tell him, if you ever have the misfortune of being in his presence, that his company is an affront to God.” Castiel’s stomach dropped to the floor at the thought of Naomi knowing about the underside of Gabe’s company, but she brushed those worries away with her next words.

“I know about his business dealings and that he profits from his connections with the musical industry. He’s gleefully informed me that he’s in league with Taylor Swift’s people. She’s a whore now, Castiel. She used to be so sweet, but have you seen the way she’s dressing lately? Very inappropriate.” Castiel attempted to defend the singer- Dean had a soft spot for her- but was interrupted again. “Speaking of things that are inappropriate, are you still living with that girl? What’s her name? Madison? Michelle?”

“Her name’s Meg, mother, and yes, I still do live with her. She’s a friend of mine, and having a roommate saves money.”

“It doesn’t look very good for you to be living alone with a woman, but I suppose it’s better than the alternative.”

Castiel’s blood turned to ice at her words because he couldn’t deal with this from her, not anymore, not now that he had Dean, not after staying far away from his mother in order to avoid conversations just like this one. 

“I know you claim your…orientation is something that can’t be fixed, which you know I disagree with, but I’ll tolerate it as long as you’re not flaunting it.”

After a beat, she continued, “That’s not what I’m calling about today, though. We have a problem. Anna’s showing signs of rebellion.”

Of course she wanted something from him; he should have known his mother wouldn’t call him just for the sake of checking on his well-being. “What exactly do you mean by ‘signs of rebellion’?

“She refuses to help with the church anymore, I’ve caught her attempting to sneak out of our home twice- thankfully I’m a very light sleeper, so she won’t be getting out on my watch-, she’s become sarcastic and unappreciative, she’s wearing revealing clothing…the list goes on and on, Castiel. I’m very worried about her.”

“Why are you telling me this?” It wasn’t like he and Anna were close. She was six years younger than him and didn’t seem to like him very much. He hadn’t gone home to Illinois since last Christmas, and during that visit, she’d given him the cold shoulder. When he’d tried to speak to her, she’d brushed him off, saying that he was boring and that she had better things to do than waste her time with him.

“I’m telling you because I want you to help _me_ help _her_ see reason. She doesn’t care for you very much, but I believe she’d listen to you more readily than me.” Listening to his mother, Castiel felt like he was back in the office she kept at home; he could vividly picture her staring him down from the opposite side of her desk, hands clasped in front of her, face full of righteous conviction.

She said, “I’m still not pleased that you’ve traipsed off to San Francisco with your brother, but I’m satisfied that you’ve managed yourself well there. That place is essentially a den of hippies and communists, yet you’ve been successful- you don’t even rely on cannabis or cavort with prostitutes like a certain someone whose name shall go unmentioned.”

 _That_ destroyed every last bit of his happiness from earlier in the day. “Mother, I’m not certain I’m the right person to assist you in this endeavor. Perhaps Michael would be a better option?” Michael would be thrilled to help her with this. He was her perfect son, the one who followed in her footsteps and now had his own church in a town near Pontiac. He’d relish the opportunity to guide Anna toward the light.

“Anna detests Michael. She’s taken to calling him Mayonnaise. But you’re a middle ground. You won’t intimidate her like Michael does, but you’ve stayed godly instead of falling like the other two have.” 

Naomi continued, “She’ll likely already be inclined to listen to you since you’ve left the home and are living in California. She’s obsessed with the idea of moving to some big city and becoming a writer. Obviously she doesn’t really know what she wants, but I can’t even convince her to apply to any colleges within a one hundred mile radius of home. However, because you’ve left the nest, so to speak, and are no longer an active participant in the church, she may listen to you.”

Castiel didn’t believe this for one minute. He didn’t know his little sister very well, but given how she’d reacted to him on his last trip home, he couldn’t imagine she’d want to hear his advice, especially not Naomi’s advice coming out of his mouth.

Once she’d realized Castiel wasn’t responding, Naomi said, “Think about it? I know you’re awful at talking to people, so I’d be happy if you could just send her an email now and then. Don’t let your sister’s willfulness lead her away from the right path, Castiel. Help me shepherd her back in the correct direction. You don’t want her to end up like, _him_ , do you?”

 _Him_ , being Lucifer, the unmentionable son. The last Castiel had heard of Lucifer was two years ago, right after Castiel had graduated college and moved away from home, when he’d visited the prison where Lucifer was being kept. Castiel thought he’d seemed quite pleased with himself. He claimed he was running the place and had the guards eating out of the palm of his hand, but it would be unwise to tell Naomi that.

And, really, he’d never been able to say no to his mother. “I’d be glad to assist you with Anna, mother,” he said, the words burning on his tongue like acid. “I’ll contact her this weekend.”

“I knew I could have faith in you. Now, I’ll let you get back to whatever it is you do, but I’ll be calling you again next week to check in and see if you’ve had any success with Anna. Don’t fail me, Castiel,” she said coolly, and abruptly ended the call.

Castiel dropped his head against the back of the couch and rubbed his temples in a useless attempt to ward off the migraine he could feel approaching. 

What was he supposed to do? He certainly didn’t want to play the role of Anna’s spiritual guide and force her back on the path Naomi wanted for her. But, there was a little part of him that wondered if maybe Naomi was right.

He’d felt for so, so long that something was wrong with him for being who he was, but the past six weeks with Dean had erased some of that feeling. He’d held the realization that Dean liked him and thought he was good close to his heart, and for once he’d been able to be proud of who he was. 

But after speaking with his mother, that itching discomfort, that sense that he was defective and didn’t belong in his own skin returned in full force. 

With a long sigh, he forced himself off the couch and went into the kitchen to get the aspirin he’d definitely need soon. He saw his cellphone lying on the counter, lit up and informing him that he had a couple unread messages from Dean.

They had been texting back and forth all afternoon about the merits of _Cat’s Cradle_ versus _Slaughterhouse-Five_. Dean had been trying to sway him toward _Cat’s Cradle_ and persuade him to reread it, but Castiel didn’t want to talk to Dean anymore.

He turned off his phone, and after calling in dinner for Meg, he went to his room and posted a note on the door saying he was sick and requesting she give him peace and quiet. 

That night, he didn’t leave his room when he heard Meg arrive home and call out for him. He heard her stop by his bedroom and tear the note off the door, but she did as he asked and left him alone. 

He knew he should have at least attempted to eat dinner, but he stayed ensconced in his room, trying to finish a report for Roman in a last-ditch effort to empty his mind and forget about his mother. 

It was a failed effort, though; he ended up lying on his stomach with his face buried into his pillow, rewinding his conversation with his mother over and over in his mind. 

They hadn’t spoken in so long that Castiel had almost forgotten how she was. Time had dulled his memories of her and made him forget the power she had over him.

She could cut him down with a single word, but he knew from experience that she also was capable of building him up in a way no one else could. Being her little angel when he was a child and then later her ‘warrior for god’ when he was older and she’d wanted him to take a leadership role in the church had made him feel _normal_. He could slip on a mask and be a strong, steady soldier who was worthy of admiration instead of the faulty, broken wreck he knew he was inside.

That had changed when he’d mustered the nerve to leave home for college and then follow Gabe to California. He hadn’t been able to put on that façade as easily anymore; he’d been adrift, not really satisfied with his job, not really sure of where he was going in life or what he even _wanted_ to do anyway.

And then he met Dean- _hired_ Dean, he reminded himself. Dean, who’d let him explore a side of himself he’d kept submerged for years. Dean, who made him feel worthwhile and cared for, just for being Cas.

After talking to his mother, though, he wondered if maybe that was all false. He was basically paying for a dream boyfriend: someone that fulfilled all of his desires and took care of him with a seemingly infinite level of patience and gentleness while receiving nothing in return.

Dean always seemed so genuine, especially when he let Castiel in and introduced him to _Star Trek_ or Led Zeppelin, or made Castiel’s favorite burgers when he was having a bad day. 

The more Castiel thought, though, the more he realized Dean was likely acting. He’d have to be a good actor if he worked for Gabe’s company, which promised each client a fulfilling experience worth every penny they paid. Dean probably treated every client in the same fashion. He likely only brought Cas to meet his family to make his mother, who had seemed to adore Castiel, happy.

Thanks to Naomi, however, Cas had come crashing down to earth. He had been stupid to allow himself to get caught up in a fantasy.

~

The next day, Castiel ran wholly on autopilot. He hadn’t been able to sleep more than an hour, maybe two if he was being generous, the night before. After skipping breakfast, he’d gone to the office, where he worked at a near-manic pace to distract himself. 

He didn’t even bother with lunch aside from a pack of chips from a vending machine, and he stayed late to get a head start on a portfolio Roman would want completed within the month. Roman had even deigned to give Castiel one of his rare compliments, praising him on his extra work, which boosted Castiel’s spirits a tiny amount. 

The custodial staff eventually shooed him out the door, though, so he went back to the apartment with a smile slapped on for Meg, who looked at him suspiciously but didn’t pester him further. He picked at the cardboard-like pizza she had ordered before feigning a headache and retreating back to his bedroom. Her chosen reality show of the evening was _Project Runway_ , which he had a secret fondness for, but he still wasn’t up for interacting with her.

That night, he lied on his bed and felt worse and worse about himself. He checked his cell phone, which he hadn’t turned on since yesterday afternoon, and saw three missed calls from Dean. 

Castiel was dimly aware that Dean might have been concerned when he suddenly stopped answering messages, but he was also sure that Dean couldn’t be too upset about it. Why would he be? It wasn’t like Dean sincerely cared for him, Castiel thought as he snapped his phone shut and threw it across the room. 

He pulled out one of his favorite novels -Eliot’s _Middlemarch_ \- in the hopes that it would distract him due to the amount of brainwork involved in reading it, but he couldn’t shake the sense of worthlessness he had. 

What was he good for? He’d failed his mother and the church, and was a weak, pitiful man that got off on being dominated and loved to follow another man’s orders to the point of kneeling for him like a dog. 

Another sleepless night passed, and once he was at work the next day, it dawned on him that it was a Wednesday. 

He almost emailed Crowley and requested he tell Dean that Castiel wouldn’t be coming that night. The thought of shredding their contract entirely made his gut twist painfully, but maybe cancelling tonight would be a good idea.

He abandoned that thought as the day progressed. He was restless and felt like he might jump out of his skin, and there was only one person who may be able to fix that for him.

As the morning turned to afternoon, Castiel realized what it was that he needed. Dean was probably pissed with him for ignoring his calls, so maybe Castiel’s plan would benefit him as well.

Because it was a slow afternoon and Castiel was already far ahead of schedule, he clocked out early and drove straight to Dean’s, where he parked his car sloppily on the side of the street and then walked up to wait on the front porch. He didn’t have a key since, until today, Dean had always been home before he arrived, but he was ready to wait, skin prickling with nerves and anticipation.

Once a half hour had passed, during which Cas grew increasingly jittery and scared, he saw the Impala rolling up the street. 

He caught Dean’s eye, and Dean quickly parked and jumped out of the car, almost running to the porch and looking concerned. Cas saw Dean eyeing him and watched as Dean’s expression shifted from worry to anger.

“You’re here an hour early?” he said as he stood in front of Castiel and unlocked the door. “After two days of radio silence?”

His words were mild, but Castiel could tell he was furious by the muscle twitching in his jaw and how he was refusing to look at Castiel. Castiel started to speak but was having trouble forcing words out of his mouth.

Dean stepped aside and ushered Castiel in first. He dropped off his keys and stalked into the living room, where he sat down in the center of the sofa. Castiel followed after him silently and waited as Dean took several deep breaths and pinched the bridge of his nose.

A minute later, he looked back up at Castiel, who was standing right in front of him. “Are you not going to talk to me?”

Castiel inhaled shakily and dropped to his knees, uncaring that he was still in his work clothes. “I’ve broken your rules. I haven’t been sleeping or eating for the past two days. I saw your calls, but I purposely ignored them.” He shuffled forward awkwardly on his knees until he was situated between Dean’s legs.

“Sir, I need you to punish me.”


	11. Chapter 11

“Sir, I need you to punish me.” 

For a second, Dean stared down at him, all traces of anger gone and replaced with worry. His features quickly smoothed again, though, and he reached out to run a hand through Castiel’s hair.

“You said you haven’t eaten in the past two days?” he said as Cas arched into his touch.

“I have eaten a slice of pizza and several bags of chips from the vending machines at work, along with a couple soda cans, but other than that, no.”

“Well, if you want me to punish you, you should remember that we don’t scene when you’re not feeling good physically. Wait here, I’ll be right back.” Dean stood and grabbed one of the pillows off the couch, which he gave to Cas. “Kneel on this. You’ll hurt your knees on the floor if you don’t.”

Castiel didn’t really care if he bruised his knees at the moment, but did as he was told and watched as Dean headed in the direction of the kitchen. Now that he was here with Dean, kneeling awkwardly in his suit, he knew that he was being stupid. He should’ve ignored his impulsive side and just told Crowley to cancel for the night. His silly emotional problems weren’t something Dean needed to be burdened with.

Dean quickly came back bearing a plate full of apple slices, peanut butter crackers, and two water bottles. He sat back down, spread his legs so that Cas could kneel between them, and uncapped the water. “Before we do anything, you need to eat and drink. Hunger can fuck you up pretty badly, and scenes can be draining - that’s why aftercare’s so important-, so we always want to start a scene at the top of our game. Understood?”

“Yes, sir. I’m sorry,” Cas said and dropped his mouth open to accept the apple slice Dean held up for him.

“It’s okay, Cas. I’m not mad at you.” Dean popped a cracker into Cas’s mouth and then held the water up to his lips.

Once he’d drunk almost the entire bottle- he hadn’t even recognized how thirsty he had been- Cas asked incredulously, “You’re not angry with me? But I broke the rules we agreed upon.” And it wasn’t like it had been an accident either.

“I know you broke the rules, but _why_ you did that is what matters to me the most right now, not disciplining you. For one thing, you aren’t even close to being in the right state of mind for any sort of punishment. But, more importantly, I know you pretty damn well by now, and I know you wouldn’t go against what we’ve agreed on for kicks or just to piss me off.”

He gave Cas another cracker and continued, saying, “Look, Cas, I may not be the brightest guy ever, but I’m not a total dumbass. I can tell when a person’s hurting. I don’t know what it is that you're beating yourself up over, but I’m not going to add to it.”

They sat quietly while Dean finished feeding Cas and while Cas thought about what Dean had said. Castiel didn’t think he was ‘beating himself up’, at least not any more than he deserved. He knew he was being mopey and whiney and childish, and he didn’t have a good reason for it. He was just a weak person who couldn’t handle his mother reminding him of the truth.

Once Castiel had finished everything on the plate and both water bottles, Dean grasped Cas’s chin so that he was forced to make eye contact and said, “Are you willing to tell me what’s up with you?”

Castiel would have done so if Dean had ordered him to, but he really didn’t want to share his stupid internal drama with Dean. He’d already humiliated himself enough for one day. “I’d really rather not, sir. I can leave, if you’d like-”

“That’s the last thing I’d ever want,” he said firmly. “And you don’t have to explain what’s wrong if you really don’t want to, but even though I don’t know the specifics, I’m sure that you don’t need punishment right now. You’re punishing yourself enough.”

“But I disobeyed, I need to be…” _Beaten. Have some sense knocked back into me._

“No, absolutely not. I don’t know your exact situation, but trust me, hurting yourself or trying to get someone else to hurt you isn’t going to make you feel any better.”

Castiel lowered his eyes because he couldn’t look at Dean, not when he was being so kind even though Cas had barged into his home outside of their standard hours, even after he’d intentionally broken the rules they’d set and ignored him for the past two days.

“Don’t look away from me, Cas,” Dean said gently, and Castiel looked back up to meet his eyes. “I know you feel like shit right now and that you think you need to be hurt even worse. I want to help you, though, if you’ll let me. But, I can tell you that it won’t be the punishment you probably were thinking of.”

Castiel didn’t hesitate before answering. “Okay. I trust you.” All Castiel knew was that he desperately needed Dean to take the reins from him, maybe send him into that amazing subspace where he wouldn’t have to think about anything other than what Dean told him to.

Dean nodded sharply and stood from the couch. He took Castiel’s hands in his and pulled him off the ground, then placed a hand on Cas’s back to guide him up the staircase. 

As they walked up the stairs, Castiel felt the now-familiar nervous energy begin to pool inside him. _This_ Castiel could do; he would be good for Dean now and accept anything Dean gave him or wanted him to do. 

Dean directed him into the ‘playroom’, the room where they’d first scened together, and Dean told Cas to take his clothes off and lay them by the door. Castiel’s blood heated as Dean stood near the doorway, watching him strip impassively. Cas normally enjoyed the added sense of vulnerability being naked while Dean was still clothed gave him, and that feeling was intensified today since Dean hadn’t changed out of his work clothes and was still wearing an expensively-cut suit that almost made Cas’s knees buckle. 

After setting his clothes by the door, Castiel stood by the bed with his head bowed and waited for his next instructions. Dean walked up to him and said, “Turn around.”

Castiel did this and then stood still as Dean maneuvered him so that his forearms were parallel to each other behind his back, with his elbows bent at right angles, and his hands each holding onto the opposite elbow.

“Hold this position,” Dean said and went to the chest in the corner that held various toys and tools. He quickly came back holding a coil of rope, and Cas’s breath hitched in anticipation. They hadn’t used rope much before, but when they had, Cas had loved it and the odd feeling of security being restrained by Dean’s rope work brought. 

Dean stood close behind him and looped the rope snugly around the middle of Cas’s forearms so that they were bound together and tied the rope off. He then brought the rope upwards diagonally to double-wrap it around Castiel’s upper arms and across his chest, right below his shoulders. He tied it in a knot behind his back again so that Castiel’s upper arms were held tightly, too, but not painfully.

He wrapped it twice more around Castiel’s arms and chest, this time under the breastbone, and then knotted the remaining rope in a column down Castiel’s spine, leaving his arms flat against his back and his chest and ribcage pushed slightly outwards. 

Dean snuck a couple fingers under the rope and tugged one of the knots on Castiel’s back, likely checking to ensure it wasn’t too tight or loose. He spun Castiel back around to face him and said, “If you feel _any_ numbness or discomfort, what do you say?”

“Yellow if I need you to pause and check in with me, red if I need you to stop immediately.”

“Good. Now, let me help you get up on the bed.” 

Castiel was surprised at how necessary this help turned out to be; having his arms pulled back and his chest thrust outwards threw him off balance, so he had to lean against Dean as he crawled onto the bed. 

Dean reached behind Castiel for a moment to adjust the pillow and then helped Castiel lower himself backwards. Dean had placed the pillow so that Castiel’s upper back was lying centered on it rather than his head, which left his neck tilted backwards, fully exposed, and his torso elevated with his arms pinned between the bed and his body.

Castiel tried to wiggle within the ropes, and a shot of excitement flew threw him when he found they had almost no give and prevented him from moving even an inch. With that excitement came a wave of disgust with himself for loving this like he did, and he felt his throat close and his eyes water in frustration. He was beyond ready for Dean to start whatever it was he had in mind, even if it wouldn’t be the punishment Cas had hoped for, because all he wanted anymore was to just _let go_.

Dean didn’t seem to be as inclined to hurry, though, and after taking his suit jacket off and draping it over the toy chest, he rolled up the cuffs of his dress shirt and unbuttoned it slightly at an almost leisurely pace.

He surveyed Castiel for a moment, and Cas squirmed at being watched so closely and in nervous anticipation. Then, Dean hopped onto the bed, too, and spread Castiel’s legs apart so that he could sit at the apex of Cas’s thighs.

“Sir, I’m sorry for all of this…” Castiel started to say, but trailed off when Dean leaned over him, bracing his arms around both sides of Cas’s head, and softly kissed his forehead. 

“Don’t apologize for being hurt, Cas,” he said, and cupped Cas’s cheek in one hand, rubbing along his cheekbone with his thumb. “And…and right now, I don’t want you to address me as ‘sir.’ I’d like you to call me Dean.”

“I can do that, Dean,” Cas said, voice barely louder than a whisper.

Dean took a deep breath and sat back upright. He ran his hands soothingly along Castiel’s sides and said, “All I want you to do now is be yourself. Just be Cas for me. Don’t try to put up that mask and hide from me or try to keep yourself quiet. Tell me anything that pops into your mind, even if you think I don’t want to hear it. Will you do that for me, Cas?”

“I’ll try,” Cas answered uncertainly. Where was Dean leading him with this? And why was he doing this, when he should have by all rights sent Castiel away or punished him?

“That’s all I ever ask.” As soon as Dean said this, he whipped his tie off and laid it over Cas’s eyes, then quickly tied it behind his head. 

Being unable to see instantly made Cas’s heart pound rapidly, and his body flushed. He felt the bed shift beneath him, and suddenly Dean’s hands were cupping the backs of his knees and lifting his legs over Dean's shoulders.

Castiel sucked in a deep breath, knowing how exposed this new position left him, and let out a short gasp of pleasure when Dean began kissing and biting along his inner thighs. 

He tilted his neck back even further and moaned loudly when Dean nipped at a sensitive spot, and then he somehow remembered that Dean wanted him to _speak_ , not just make pitiful little noises. So he said the first thing that came to mind. “I-I like how the ropes feel against my skin.” 

“I like how they bite into me whenever I move too much. I like how it almost feels like an extension of you, like you’re holding me.” The way Dean was biting at the meat of his upper thighs was definitely shutting down some of his anxieties, but he couldn’t help but be concerned that he would reveal too much of himself and accidentally push Dean away.

His worries must have been obvious because Dean stopped his ministrations long enough to quietly say, “Good, Cas, good job. Doing great already.”

Somewhat encouraged, Cas continued shakily, saying, “I…I suppose I’m a fan of being held down in general, whether you’re using your hands to pin me against the couch or using the leather cuffs on me, knowing that I’m not going anywhere unless you let me…it’s amazing.” He shivered as Dean moved upwards to kiss all along his hipbones. “I know it’s stupid, but it makes me feel safe.”

Dean nuzzled the thin, soft skin between Cas’s hips, scratching him slightly with his stubble, and said, “Not stupid, Cas, never stupid. Wanting something, having the guts to admit that to yourself and go after it- that’s brave, not stupid.”

Cas snorted in disbelief at Dean’s words; he’d told Cas that he was brave before, but it just wasn’t _true_. Latching onto Cas’s right hipbone and sucking hard enough that Cas knew there would be a bruise later, Dean said, “I know you don’t believe me now, but I’m ready to keep telling you until you do.”

“You’ll be here until we’re both grey-haired and arthritic,” Cas said breathlessly, feeling himself get harder as Dean started being rougher with him.

Dean shrugged. “If that’s what it takes,” he said and began biting and sucking all over Cas’s stomach and up to his ribcage, hopefully leaving marks that Cas could carry with him for days.

Feeling bolstered by Dean’s words, even though he couldn’t let himself believe them, Castiel, between gasping moans, managed to say, “I love it when you leave marks on me. I go to work and can feel them rubbing against my clothes or when I sit down, and all I can think about is how much I want to be here with you.”

Dean paused momentarily and said, voice barely above a whisper, “I think about you, too, all day when I’m at work, I always want to hear from you, or get a text from you with some weird fact about history, or bees. You’re the best part of my day even when we’re not together.”

Cas thought he might float off the bed if it weren’t for Dean holding him. His eyes seemed to burn, and it felt like his throat was closing. “You’re the highlight of my days, too.”

A tear slipped out, and for the first time since they’d started, Castiel wished he was untied so that he could wipe it away before Dean noticed. Dean didn’t react, though, other than beginning to suck and bite hard enough into Castiel’s shoulders and collarbones to leave bruises.

What Dean had just said had somehow felt like a confession to Castiel, and before he could lose his courage, he decided to tell Dean the truth. Speaking unsteadily, he said, “The reason I was upset was because of a call from my mother. We hadn’t spoken in months, but a couple days ago, she calls me out of the blue and tells me that my little sister isn’t obeying her properly.”

Tears flowing freely now, soaking Dean’s tie, Cas continued, “She wants me to talk to Anna, try to make her ‘see the light’ because she thinks she can have faith in me, but I know that if my mother really knew what I’m like, she’d hate me.”

Dean had shifted upwards so that he could get at Castiel’s neck and laid a soft trail of kisses along the curve of his throat. Choking out a sob, Castiel said, “I’m already a disappointment to her because I’m gay, because I left home and didn’t try to follow in her steps by leading people to god, and I just feel like I’m some broken, unwanted tool that she only pulls out when I can be useful.”

“I just…I spent so long feeling so guilty for being who I am and then I met you, and you made me feel proud of who I am, like I’m good enough just being Cas, but now I don’t know what to do or what to think anymore,” he managed to force out as tears and snot streamed down his face and ruined the tie.

Dean kissed his mouth this time, gently, and wiped along Cas’s cheeks with his thumbs. Cas said, “I just feel worthless.” He collapsed against the bed and felt like all of his muscles had been worn away. 

After kissing Cas once more, Dean unknotted his tie and threw it aside. Blinking his tears away, Castiel was met with the sight of Dean’s eyes looking right at him with the strangest expression, almost reverent. 

Dean laid down over Castiel so that their bodies were pressed tightly together and fisted his hands in Cas’s hair. “You are my smart, brave,” Dean said, punctuating each word with a kiss to Cas's eyelids, his jawline, his cheeks, “and strong Castiel, my Cas, and I’m never gonna stop telling you that until you believe it, too, then I’m never gonna let you forget it.”

“But I’m…” _Weak. A disappointment._

“You’re _good_ , Cas, the absolute best,” Dean said, reaching behind Castiel and untying the ropes. 

“No, I’m not,” Castiel said as the ropes went slack and his arms were freed.

“Why not?” 

“Because…because…” Castiel sighed in frustration when he couldn’t think of any answer other than, _Because my mother said so._

Dean pulled him upright and cradled him against his chest, arms wrapped tightly around him. “You’re good, Cas,” he whispered, and Castiel couldn’t stop himself from burying his head in Dean’s shoulder and giving himself over to Dean’s care.


	12. Chapter 12

Castiel felt himself slowly shifting back towards wakefulness but determinedly kept his eyes shut tight. He was so damned comfortable in his bed, which was far warmer than usual, and he wanted to get back to the dream he had been having. 

The details of it were already fading from his memory, but he tried to hold on to the ones he could remember. He had been in a sunny garden with Dean, lying on a soft blanket and listening as Dean told him about…songs? There had been something about a song, and maybe a bird, but he was already forgetting the specifics.

He burrowed in closer to the heat in front of him and felt a set of arms tighten around him and fingers begin brushing through his hair. _That_ was enough to snap him out of the last bits of unconsciousness because somebody else was in his bed, which was not at all normal.

Pulling back in the arms that surrounded him enough to look upwards, he was met with Dean peering down at him sleepily, like he had just woken up, too.

For a moment, they just stared at each other, and Cas was somewhat mollified by the fact that Dean looked just as awkward and bemused as he felt. 

After a beat, Dean smiled at him sheepishly and resumed tracing his fingers through the fine hair at the back of Cas’s neck. “Hey, Cas,” he murmured, still sounding somewhat groggy, “you feeling alright?”

Much better than alright. He was more comfortable than he could ever remember being, even though this was a strange experience for him. He smiled back at Dean tentatively and said, “Yes, Dean, I’m…” _Perfect_ , “doing very well.”

Dean seemed to hesitate for a moment but then leaned in and pressed a kiss to Cas’s lips. “Me too.”

Cas glanced over Dean’s shoulder to check the alarm clock on the bedside table and saw that it was nearly nine in the evening. It then dawned on him that he couldn’t remember getting into bed, let alone with Dean beside him. This _never_ happened. He sometimes fell asleep on the couch with Dean when they were cuddling after a scene or nodded off with his head against Dean’s thigh while kneeling, but they always parted ways at the end of the day. Cas kept to his guestroom and still hadn't even been upstairs to Dean’s bedroom. 

“Dean, what happened after…” _After I broke down and cried like a child._

“You were pretty tired, so I helped you put your pajama pants on, got you to drink some juice, and then kinda carried you in here. I was setting you on the bed and about to leave so you could sleep, but, you- um,” Dean said, rubbing the back of his neck like he was embarrassed, “you grabbed my arm and wouldn’t let go. You told me to stay, and I-I couldn’t say no to you.”

A blush spread to the tips of Cas’s ears. “I apologize,” he said, attempting to regain some dignity. “I must have not been thinking properly-”

“It’s fine. If I didn’t want to be here, I wouldn’t be here,” Dean said and then grinned at Cas cockily. “Besides, who wouldn’t want me in their bed? I can’t blame you, Cas, you’re only human.”

Castiel felt himself turn even redder and jokingly shoved Dean’s chest. Dean just laughed at him in response and only stopped when Cas’s stomach growled loudly.

Dean nimbly sprung out of bed and held out a hand to help Cas up, too. “Come downstairs with me. We need to eat dinner.”

Castiel let Dean tug him out of bed and lead him out into the hallway. “Isn’t it a little late for dinner?”

“Nope. Never too late for food.” 

~

Castiel stood quietly in the kitchen with Dean while he quickly prepped and cooked a pasta dish with something called romesco sauce that filled the room with a smoky scent. He passed Dean ingredients and utensils whenever he needed them, but otherwise kept to his own thoughts.

He felt about a thousand times better than he had ever since speaking to Naomi. Somehow, letting out the feelings he’d kept bottled inside helped immensely. It probably shouldn’t have surprised him as much as it did, but expressing himself freely was new to him, so he hadn’t expected it to feel so damn _good_.

He should have felt guilty, or stupid, or weak, for behaving like he had, but instead there was just a lingering sense that he was cared for and valuable just for being himself. And that was frustrating because he couldn’t tell what was real and what was fake. The lines between what was professional and what was personal had become so blurred that Cas knew he’d have to do something about it soon, or else he’d drive himself mad. 

Once the pasta had finished cooking, they went to the living room to eat. Castiel automatically took his pillow off the couch so that he could kneel, but Dean stopped him and gestured for Cas to sit next to him on the couch.

As he spooled pasta around his fork, Dean said, “Talk to me, Cas. I know you probably don’t want to, but I need a little more information about what’s going on with you. You can’t self-medicate by trying to get me to punish you.”

“I know. It’s just that-” Castiel paused, trying to figure out how to verbalize his thoughts. “I oftentimes don’t like myself very much. I haven’t felt that way- at least not to the extent I have the past two days- in a while, but speaking to my mother brought all of that back. I just wanted to be _hurt_.”

Dean sighed and said, “God, do I understand that. I get it, Cas, I really, really do. But even though I think BDSM can be therapeutic, we can’t let safety slide. You can’t think straight when you’re as upset as you were, and I wasn’t sure you’d safeword even if you needed to.”

Castiel nodded; he knew Dean was right. He probably _wouldn’t_ have used his safeword, and he was confident now that any sort of genuine punishment wouldn’t have helped him as much as what Dean had chosen to do to him had. 

They sat together and ate quietly while Castiel gathered his thoughts. He knew he had to give Dean a better explanation as to what had upset him so badly.

He began, “Dean, sometimes I feel out of control and…groundless. Like I’m falling and have no way to catch myself. I don’t know what to do with my life, or why I’m the way I am, and as I said, much of the time I don’t even like who I am. And I…I don’t know how to say this.” He _hated_ that he was like this. He’d never been able to express his feelings clearly, and people sometimes seemed to take that as he didn’t even have feelings, when in fact the opposite was true. The world was so damn vibrant and loud and overwhelming that he had difficulties processing it all and responding to it appropriately.

“I know what you mean, Cas. Talking about your feelings, it kinda sucks. My mom and brother have forced me into it too many times over the years, so I know how hard it can be, but right now it’s a necessary evil. How about I help you start?” After Cas nodded, Dean said, “You mentioned your little sister, Anna? And that your mom wants you to give her some sort of guidance?”

“Yes,” Cas said. He paused and decided he might as well give Dean the full story now. “I come from a deeply religious family. My mother- Naomi- and father founded their own church back in Illinois. My father died when I was young, right after Anna was born, so I don’t remember him very well, but apparently he was very charismatic and very persuasive. That, combined with my mother’s dedication, made the church successful. We have the largest congregation in the area.”

When Dean didn’t interrupt, just looked at him expectantly, Castiel continued. “From what one of my older brothers has said about my father, he was an open-minded man. Kind and loving to his followers, no matter what they were like. But after he passed and Naomi fully took over, she supported harsher teachings than what he endorsed. Only certain people were pure enough for the ‘Kingdom of Heaven’ in her eyes, so that’s the stance the church adopted. Some people left, but most stayed.”

“When I was young, I didn’t think about this very much. I assumed that my mother must be right, and that if some people couldn’t go to heaven, it was their own fault. I was a good son. I was obedient and devoted. She homeschooled my siblings and I and planned for us to help her lead the church when we grew up, or maybe even lead congregations of our own.”

“This all started to unravel around the time I was thirteen. My two oldest brothers, Michael and Lucifer, fought constantly. Michael soaked in every word Naomi said, but Lucifer thought they were both insane. He didn’t want to follow some unresponsive, cold god, so he left. Around the same time, I realized that I wasn’t feeling for girls the way everyone expected me to. I was warned not to be tempted by women’s bodies, but all I could think of was how handsome one of the boys in our choir was.”

“I was repulsed by my feelings and tried my best to ignore them, but that was impossible. Shoving that part of myself inside and trying to kill it hurt more than I could have imagined, especially when I had to go to church and hear my mother rant about homosexual sinners while pretending I was her good, dutiful son.” He stopped for a moment, trying to catch his breath. Oddly enough, it felt like a weight was slowly being lifted off his chest with each word he said. 

Dean took one of Cas’s hands in his and laced their fingers together as Castiel continued, saying, “This went on for several years. During that time, Naomi taught me everything she could about Scripture, how to gain new converts, and be a 'warrior for god' as she liked to say. Michael had moved to a nearby town and begun developing his own church while Lucifer enjoyed his first stint in prison.” Cas skipped over Gabriel since there was no need to give Dean any hints that Cas’s brother was his boss. 

“Naomi wanted me to be like Michael, strong and faithful and steady, ready to lead people on the path of righteousness. I did an excellent job playing that role for a while. It felt good, making her proud and acting like I was one of the devout. It was a smokescreen, but it made me feel useful, normal.” 

“Secretly, though, I never wanted to be a leader. But, I did make daily trips to the library and read all I could about theology, and I found so many inconsistencies and passages that just seemed _wrong_ in what my mother taught that I began having doubts.”

Castiel’s throat tightened as he spoke, and Dean squeezed his hand encouragingly. “And then when I was sixteen, I became close to one of the other boys that sang in our choir. His name was Samandriel. We became very good friends, but there was always something more below the surface. One day, he was leaving my house, and on impulse, I kissed him right as he was telling me goodbye, just to see what it was like. My mother pulled in the driveway after a minute, though, and caught us.”

“I’d never seen her so furious,” Cas said, his voice shaking. “She sent him home immediately and informed his parents of what she’d seen. I never saw him again after that, and my mother no longer treated me the way she did before.”

“Instead of her good, intelligent son who she could be proud of, I couldn’t do anything that made her happy. I worked so hard to get into college and earn multiple scholarships, but it wasn’t the right college, the major _I_ wanted to study was useless and impractical, my beliefs were unrealistic and incorrect, and on and on. I did everything that I could to please her- choosing the major she wanted, going to a church near campus every Sunday, and ignoring what I wanted for myself. It worked to certain extent. She doesn’t believe I’m irredeemable anymore, just a little broken.”

“I couldn’t force myself to stay near home after I graduated, though, so I followed my older brother Gabriel to live out here. We weren’t- and still aren’t- close, but I wanted to have at least one person who was familiar to me.”

“Mother wasn’t exactly pleased with this decision, but she tolerated it. Ever since moving here, I haven’t spoken to her, except on very rare occasions. Two days ago was the first time in nine months, actually.”

He stopped and looked over at Dean, and was pleased to see he didn’t look pitying like Meg had when he’d told her how he had grown up. She hadn’t meant to offend him, but when she’d called him ‘poor brainwashed Clarence’ it had stung.

Cas said, “Now my mother wants me to help her steer Anna back on the correct path. In her eyes, I’m not wholly corrupted the way Lucifer and Gabe are, but she says Anna won’t listen to Michael. She asked me…well, commanded me to email Anna once a week and try to talk to her, make her see reason. I agreed, but I’m not sure if I made the right choice.” 

He didn’t know much about Anna beyond what his mother had told him, but now that he was thinking about it, perhaps Gabriel knew more than he did. It had been Gabe’s idea to set up a savings account for her in case mother didn’t want to pay for her to go to college. Castiel hadn’t questioned it at the time; Naomi saw college as excessive and wasteful, so Cas had thought this was a reasonable concern on Gabe’s part, but maybe there was something else Cas didn’t know about.

Dean stared hard at Cas for a moment, and once he’d seemingly determined Cas was finished talking, he said, “No offense, Cas, but I think your mom’s full of shit.”

For a second Cas gaped at him, and then he said, “Thank you for your diplomacy, Dean. You know, prefacing a statement with ‘no offense’ doesn’t magically make what you’re saying inoffensive.”

Dean sighed and rubbed the back of his neck. “All I’m trying to say is that no one should be allowed to make you think you’re broken, or worthless, or not good enough. You were so upset today and hurting so much, and I just hate that your own mom is the one making you think that way.”

Castiel automatically said, “She doesn’t mean any harm. I know she would never intentionally hurt me. She just wants what’s best for me, and her ideas of what that constitutes don’t always align with mine.” So what if it hurt? He was her son, and it was his duty to listen to her, even if it was painful. 

When he saw that Dean still looked dubious, he said, “I mean it, Dean. She just wants to help me.”

Dean shook his head, but said, “Alright, Cas. I can’t force you to agree with me.”

Eager to change the subject, Cas asked, “What about you? I told you my ‘Big Traumatic Backstory’; will you tell me a little about yourself as well?” After what had happened earlier, Cas wasn’t as concerned about overstepping professional boundaries as usual. 

“There’s not much to tell. I grew up in Lawrence, Kansas with my parents and Sammy. Then when I was older, I moved to San Francisco with my mom and Sam. I opened an auto shop with a family friend, Bobby, and now I’m here with you,” he said, bringing Cas’s hand that he was already holding to rest in his lap.

Cas rolled his eyes and said, “That was very enlightening, Dean, thank you.” After pouring his heart out to Dean, he had really hoped to receive something more informative in response. 

Since he was determined to learn at least a tiny bit more about Dean, he said, “During the first weekend we were together, I walked in on you speaking on the phone with your father, but you haven’t mentioned him any other times, and he wasn’t at Sam’s party. Does he still live in Kansas?”

Dean froze, and Cas’s immediately wanted to revoke his question. _Dammit._ Tact wasn’t his strong suit by any means, and he hadn’t even considered that it might not be a wise idea to bring up Dean’s father. Looking back on that first weekend, though, he could remember how distressed Dean had seemed speaking to his dad, and how he had wanted to hold Dean and comfort him.

Dean took a deep breath before saying, “He does still live in Kansas. He and my mom, they separated when I was seventeen. They fought a lot when I was growing up, but things got even worse when I was in high school. He had issues with drinking and got involved with some people mom didn’t like, so mom packed me and Sammy up, and we left him.” 

“I’m sorry.” Castiel knew that was a meaningless statement, but he didn’t know what else to say.

“It’s fine. Not like I didn’t see it coming. Like I said, they fought a lot even when I was a kid, so I already knew they weren’t happy. They got married when they were really young and had me right after. I think they kinda…I don’t know, rushed into it. Besides, it wasn’t all bad.”

“How so?” It sounded awful to Castiel. Since his father had passed away when he was very young, he couldn’t imagine what it would be like as a child living with parents who obviously didn’t like each other and constantly fought. 

“Hmm…well, I wouldn’t be able to cook like I can without the fighting. When they were mad at each other, my dad would always go out with some other guys, either to a shooting range or a bar, but my mom wouldn’t leave me and Sam alone, so she started stress-baking. Mom and I have always been close, and when she was upset, I’d hang out with her in the kitchen and try to make her feel better. I’d cook with her, and I ended up being pretty decent at it. Dad said she was gonna turn me into a pussy, but she never listened to him.”

“That’s really lovely, Dean.” Castiel was happy for Dean and knew he shouldn’t be jealous of him, but he couldn’t help but be a little envious of his relationship with his mom. He and Naomi never did anything together just for enjoyment or comfort. Everything always had to have a higher purpose, or it wasn’t worth doing. He said, “My mother told my siblings and me not to use food for pleasure. She said that our bodies are temples that we shouldn’t fill with junk.”

“If your body’s a temple, it’s a temple that belongs to you. You should be able to treat yourself and have something that makes you feel good without feeling guilty about it.” He waggled an eyebrow at Cas and grinned, saying, “And besides, haven’t I taught you anything about the wonders of hedonism? Enjoy life’s simple pleasures, Cas, whether it’s an orgasm or a kickass slice of cherry pie, or whatever it is that you want.”

Castiel _wished_ he could make himself think like that. He said, “You sound like Gabriel! The first thing he did when I came to live out here was drag me to a nightclub and hire a stripper to give me a lap dance, so that I could ‘become acquainted with the pleasures of the flesh.’”

Dean chuckled and said, “Yeah, that sounds like Gabe. To own a company like he does, though, I guess you have to be a little crazy.”

“Yeah, he’s-” Castiel stopped suddenly when he remembered that Dean wasn’t supposed to know that the Gabriel who was the owner of Heavenly Delights was also Cas’s big brother. “Excuse me? How did you know that my Gabe is your boss Gabriel?”

“Oh, _shit_ ,” Dean said as Cas felt all the blood drain from his face. “Um…I kind of always knew?”

He glanced over at Cas and must have been able to tell how distressed he was, so he said, looking at Cas pleadingly, “I wasn’t trying to hide that from you, I swear, it just slipped my mind once I got to know you better.”

“Does Gabriel know?” Cas said, trying not to panic at the thought of anyone in his family knowing about this.

“No. The only one who does is Crowley. Trust me, Cas, they have some VIP clients there, and they take confidentiality seriously. Gabe wasn’t even involved in handling our meet-up.”

Hearing this eased Cas’s nerves, but he did have another question. “Why did Crowley even tell you who I’m related to then?”

Dean blushed and looked anywhere but at Cas. “Well…he basically said to make sure I give you special treatment since you’re related to the boss.”

Castiel’s stomach sank like a stone, but he tried to hide it. “Oh, of course. I understand completely. If you could just tell me what the ‘special treatment’ was and what was actually you, though, I would appreciate it,” he said and hated how manic his voice sounded.

“What are you talking about? Everything has been ‘actually me.’” Castiel forced himself to meet Dean’s eyes and saw that he seemed genuinely confused.

Hoping that he wasn’t about to humiliate himself, Cas said, “I mean, am I just some client to you? Am I just a sad, weird guy that you only put up with because I’m paying you, or do you- do you actually like me?” Castiel knew he was bright red and splotchy, but it was now or never. He’d never be able to force those words out again.

“Of course I like you. Do you really think I’d bring you to meet my family if I didn’t?” 

When Castiel didn’t answer quickly enough, Dean said, “Listen, I suck at the whole ‘sharing my feelings’ bullshit, but you’re-you’re special to me, Cas. You’re different. Most of my clients don’t give a shit about me. I don’t blame them because they _are_ paying me for a service, and I understand that, but to a lot of them I’m a living spanking machine. They come in for a night or a weekend, I give them whatever it is they need, and they’re on their way.”

“But you…I’m just some guy, but you look at me like I hung the moon. And the faith that you have in me, the fact that I’m the person you came to when you needed help- it means a lot to me.”

Twisting around so that he was fully facing Dean, Cas said, “And you truly mean that? You genuinely like me as a person and enjoy my company? I’m more than just a paycheck?”

“Yeah. Yeah, you are, Cas,” Dean said softly, reaching over to take Cas’s other hand in his so that he was holding them both in his lap.

Castiel took a deep, fortifying breath and sent up a prayer to whoever may be listening and said, “Dean, I want to be in a real relationship with you.”


	13. Chapter 13

_“Dean, I want to be in a real relationship with you.”_

For a long moment, Dean stared back at Castiel, mouth open and no words coming out. 

Castiel started speaking again to keep himself from panicking. “Paying has become too painful. When I hired you, it was out of need and more than a little desperation. I had fantasized about _this_ for a long time, and I initially just wanted to get it out of my system and then move on with my life. But then you were so kind and patient with me, and I ended up liking you and what we have together more than I ever anticipated.” 

Cas knew he was babbling like a character in one of Meg’s soap operas but couldn’t stop himself from saying, “And I…I just want to be with you.”

“You really want _me_?” Dean said, sounding taken aback. “Not just the, uh, ‘services’ I can provide?”

“Of course I want you,” Cas said and squeezed Dean’s hand, which was still entwined with his. “You make me feel…safe. Protected. When I’m with you, I can turn off some of the worries that are with me almost constantly, like the _guilt_ , and the- the shame over being who I am. When I’m with you, I’m happier than I’ve ever been, and I hope that somehow I’ve helped you, too.” 

Really, how could Dean not be aware of this? “I had thought I was rather transparent. Sometimes it seems like I’m an open book to you.” Dean could read him better than anyone else he’d ever met, even though they hadn't been together very long, so Castiel couldn’t understand Dean’s surprise at his confession. 

Dean shrugged. “You’re better at hiding than you think, or, you know, maybe I’m just bad at reading.” After a quick pause, he said quietly, “You really mean it, though, Cas? You want to try a ‘real’ relationship with me? ‘Cause I can be a real pain in the ass.”

Castiel met Dean’s eyes and said, “Yes, I mean it, Dean. I want to be with you, every bit of you, no holding back anymore.”

Dean stared at him intently with glassy eyes and then disentangled their hands to cup Cas’s cheeks in his palms, leaning forward to brush their lips together and kiss him tenderly. He pulled back momentarily and then pressed in again, rubbing a thumb along Cas’s cheekbone and coaxing his mouth open by tugging at Cas’s bottom lip with his teeth. A soft, yearning sound escaped from Castiel’s throat as Dean licked into his mouth and shifted Cas onto his lap.

All of Castiel’s worries faded away at the warmth of being in Dean’s arms, one of which had wound its way around Cas’s upper back and was clutching him tightly to Dean’s chest and the other that had slowly traveled down Cas’s side and began sliding up underneath his shirt. Cas moaned at the heat of Dean’s fingers tracing all over his back and up and down his spine, and he wrapped his arms around Dean’s neck, feeling as though he needed an anchor to keep himself tethered to the ground. 

He played with the fine hairs at the base of Dean’s neck and felt himself growing harder at the pleased humming sound Dean made in response and the way Dean pulled him closer towards him, his arms bound so perfectly tight around Cas that Cas was sure he could almost feel Dean’s heartbeat through their shirts. 

Dean pulled away from Cas’s lips to kiss and lick at the marks he’d made on Castiel’s neck and collarbone earlier, and Cas couldn’t keep himself from groaning loudly and rubbing his own cock against Dean’s, enjoying the friction of them sliding together under their clothing. 

“Dean, Dean, I need you tonight,” Cas murmured, and Dean tore himself away from where he’d been laving over the bruise on Cas’s shoulder to meet his eyes. “Want to give you every part of me, want you _inside_ me…”

Cas was momentarily concerned that he’d overstepped some boundary since Dean hadn’t _really_ fucked him yet, but Cas realized maybe that was just a line he didn’t want to cross with a client when Dean quickly kissed him once more before easing him off of his lap and then pulling him off the couch. 

He placed a hand on the small of Cas’s back and guided him out of the living room to the staircase, and Castiel barely stopped himself from running up the stairs in eagerness. Once they’d made it to the second floor, Cas glanced back at Dean to see if they’d be going up to Dean’s room on the third floor and was only slightly disappointed when Dean steered him down the hallway to his guest bedroom. 

Any shred of disappointment promptly disappeared, though, as, right before crossing the threshold to his room, Dean spun him around so they were facing one another, gripped the backs of his knees, and lifted him up. Cas instinctively threw his arms around Dean’s neck and wrapped his legs around his waist as Dean carried him over the entryway, loving the feeling of being securely embraced in strong arms.

Dean carried him across the room and deposited him on the bed, and Castiel leaned back and scooted up towards the headboard to make room for Dean to join him. Immediately, Dean got up on the bed and crawled between Cas’s spread legs, lying down on top of Cas and kissing him bruisingly hard, separating just long enough to pull Castiel’s shirt over his head and toss it on the floor.

Short work was made of their clothes, which were thrown carelessly aside, until only their boxers remained. Cas was sure he was about to combust, from the way Dean’s tongue traced over the marks dotting his neck and shoulders, from how he was completely boxed in by Dean, arms bracketing both sides of his body and Dean's legs pinning his own, and the rock of Dean’s hips pressing down onto his that sent flashes of pleasure pulsating through him.

Dean went in a line down Castiel’s torso, kissing and biting and licking until he reached the waistband of Cas’s boxers, which he quickly removed, leaving Castiel panting as his erection was freed and his flushed body was fully exposed. 

Kneeling between Cas’s spread legs, Dean placed his hands soothingly on Castiel’s inner thighs and said, “You really want me, Cas?”

“More than anything,” Cas answered and wondered at how Dean seemed uncertain now when he always seemed so sexually confident before. How could he ever doubt that Cas wanted him, _needed_ him?

Dean sighed shakily and said, “In that case, give me a sec, and I’ll be right back.” He picked up one of Cas’s hands, which had been twisted in the sheets, and kissed Cas’s knuckles one by one before springing off the bed and heading out into the hallway.

Cas turned over onto his stomach and got up on his hands and knees in preparation for what he desperately hoped was to come. He felt strangely confident, strong even, and wanted to present himself proudly for Dean. 

Cas didn’t look back up when he heard Dean enter the room, but kept his head bowed and arched his back slightly in what he hoped was an appealing fashion. 

He was rewarded when Dean whistled lowly and murmured, “Cas, in case I haven’t mentioned it lately, you’re goddamn beautiful.” 

Cas preened as Dean got back on the bed and knelt behind him, and he dropped down to his elbows to give Dean a good view. 

“So, tell me what it is that you want exactly, Cas?” Dean said, sounding strong and powerful again.

“I want you to fuck me, _please_. I want to feel you whenever I take a step, want to be reminded of you when I sit down at work tomorrow…” He had so many more things in mind, had so much he wanted to tell Dean but hadn’t felt quite ready to before, but his voice gave out at the press of lube-coated fingers against his hole, just a light, teasing pressure.

“Good, Cas, I want that, too. Want you to remember me when you’re at work and Roman treats you like shit, remember who made you sore and that someone thinks you’re amazing just like you are. Or when someone makes you think your worthless, look at the marks I’ve put on your body and remember who you belong to, that I want _you_.” 

As he spoke, Dean began to scissor Cas open, working each finger in at just the right pace so that it wasn’t painful but still gave Cas the subtle pain that Dean knew he loved. Cas’s back arched hard, and he had to bite down on his pillow to keep from crying out as Dean massaged over his prostate and at the heaviness of his cock hanging between his legs. 

“Dean, I-I’m ready, _please_ ,” Cas whimpered once Dean had worked four fingers into him. Dean pulled his fingers out, took a hold of Cas’s hips, lined the head of his cock up with Cas’s entrance, and slid inside at an achingly slow pace.

Castiel tried to push back to take Dean in further, but a firm grip was kept on his hips. He groaned as Dean sunk into him, his legs shaking and feeling like they might give out at any moment, and he shivered when Dean bottomed out, savoring the fullness that he felt for the first time. 

Dean pumped in and out of him several times, slowly again, as though he thought Cas may break if he was too rough with him. While he certainly wasn’t going to be breaking anytime soon, his legs did finally give out as Dean found the perfect angle that brushed the head of his cock against Cas’s prostate on each thrust. 

Dean moved one hand from his hips to wrap an arm around Cas’s torso and gently lower the two of them to the bed, Castiel’s stomach now flat against the mattress and Dean’s chest flush against his back. 

His fingers twitched where they laid splayed at his sides and his toes curled into the sheets as Dean set a steady, controlled pace rocking in and out of him, scraping against Cas’s prostate with every thrust and making Cas feel like his nerves were frayed and coming apart at the seams. When Dean gave a particularly hard thrust that had Cas on the verge of shouting and biting into his forearm hard enough to almost break the skin to contain himself, Dean slid the arm he’d had wrapped around Cas’s waist out from underneath him, took each of Cas’s hands in his and pulled his arms up over his head, leaving Cas fully pinned to the bed and spread open for him.

Dean laced his fingers together with Castiel’s and quickened his pace, snapping his hips in short, powerful bursts, and said, “What have I always told you? I want to hear you, Cas, don’t want you hiding anything from me.”

He sucked at the sensitive spot behind one of Cas’s ears and paused inside of Castiel, making Cas shudder and moan out Dean’s name. “You feel so _good_ , Dean, love having you inside me, filling me up,” Cas managed to choke out between gasps. 

Dean growled in his ear and said, “You’re so tight, Cas, so fuckin’ hot, and you’re _mine_.”

 _Yes, **yes** , yours,_ Cas thought hazily and clenched down around Dean at the sensation of hot breaths puffed against his shoulders and Dean’s hands still gripping his tightly, holding him down securely, possessively. 

A prickling, blazing hot wave of pleasure was building in his cock, and he just needed a little more to push him over the edge. His cock hadn’t been touched the whole time save for the friction of it against the sheets, and he didn’t want it to be, but if Dean would just go harder...

“Dean, please, I need to come,” Cas said, and nearly sobbed when Dean sunk fully into him and stopped.

Dean, still holding his hands tightly, whispered into his ear, “Say that you’re mine, Cas.”

“I’m yours,” Cas answered unhesitatingly.

Behind him, he heard Dean make a strangled, sobbing sound before biting into the meat of Cas’s shoulder, hard enough that Cas hoped he’d be able to carry the mark with him for days, and picked up his pace, slamming his hips down at an angle that had Cas quivering and feeling like his muscles had turned to liquid. 

When he felt the heat and pleasure in him reaching its peak, he twisted around so that he could see Dean, and Dean captured Cas’s lips with his own right as Cas came. He kissed Cas softly until Cas was spent, and his body went entirely limp.

Moments later, Cas felt Dean come inside him and savored the feeling as he collapsed on the bed, trying to catch his breath. 

~

After Dean cleaned the bed and both of them enough to be comfortable, they laid together, Dean on his back and Cas curled into his side. Cas rested his head on Dean’s chest, listening to his heartbeat and nearly purring at the sensation of Dean tracing his fingers lightly through his hair.

Cas chose to break the silence and said, “That was very…nice.” Which was a massive understatement, but even though he was going to work on being more open, Cas wasn’t ready to come out and say, ‘That was so exquisite I think I may have blacked-out afterwards, and I probably won't be able to sit at my desk tomorrow without feeling sore. _Hopefully_ , I won't be able to sit at my desk tomorrow without feeling sore.’

Above him, he heard Dean snort and say, “ ‘Nice’? Thanks for the glowing review, Cas. Guess I’ll just have to practice more, huh?”

That sounded ideal to Cas. He lifted his cheek from Dean’s chest to grin at him and say, “Yes, I think we’ll need to schedule nightly practice sessions.” 

Dean laughed and pulled Cas in for another kiss, and god, Cas could get used to this, being openly, easily affectionate with Dean. Dean had always been caring and unbelievably kind to him, but Cas thought there was a notable difference now that he wasn’t strictly a client anymore, or at least wouldn't be once Cas contacted Crowley tomorrow. 

He still had another question for Dean, though. “Dean? Why haven’t we done that before?” Dean had had him tied to a bed, bound to the couch, and had fucked him with his fingers and all manner of toys but had never engaged in actual intercourse with him before, which had always struck Cas as odd. Gabe’s company was far enough ‘under the table’ that it wasn’t like there was a company rule against that sort of client interaction.

Dean’s hand paused where he’d been lightly scratching Castiel’s back. “Well, it’s kind of a…a personal rule of mine, I guess. It’s a clear, black-and-white line for me to keep work and play separate. I sometimes, um, have a tendency to get more attached to people than I should, so I just like to keep a professional distance from my clients. Present company excluded, obviously.”

That made sense to Cas, even though he didn’t quite understand it personally. He’d never even had intercourse before, let alone any casual encounters, and tended not to become very attached to people. When he did, it tended to come at a glacial pace, like gradually opening up to Meg after a year of living with her. Dean was the only exception to this rule that he’d ever met.

Hearing this from Dean made his heart flutter like a hummingbird’s wings, though. He nuzzled back into Dean’s chest and was so, so happy that _he_ was the one Dean broke his rule for, that Dean wanted to be with him for his own sake, not just the money.

Feeling light-hearted and free, Cas said, “Does this mean we can try more intense scenes now? I’ve seen in your ‘toy box’ and know you have a lot in there that we haven’t tried yet that you must have used on past clients.” 

Dean hesitated for a long moment, and Cas was just about to ask what was wrong, before he spoke. “’Course we can. I’ve still got the contract we set up when we first met and have a good idea about what to try. Maybe we should let you recover from tonight first, though?” he said, teasingly. 

Cas looked up from Dean's chest and scowled at him. So what if he’d had to be carried to the bathroom and cleaned by Dean because he’d been too tired to stand up in the shower? "Anyone would be a bit wobbly after the fucking you gave me," Cas informed him Dean snappishly, but Dean just laughed at him before reaching for him and pulling him back to his chest.

A little while later, Dean rolled them both over onto their sides so that he was spooned up behind Cas. Cas was just about to doze off because he really was exhausted, but was rousted by Dean.

“Cas, I really do want to try having a real, non-paying relationship with you. Honestly, I was kinda starting to feel like an asshole for taking your money. But, I’m not always good with change, and I’m really not that great sometimes. I’ll get angry, and clingy, and you’ll get sick of me-”

“No,” Cas said drowsily, half-asleep. “I won’t ever be tired of you. Besides, just trying is good. We’ll keep it easy, casual.”

“Casual?” Dean repeated, and Cas nodded sleepily. “All right, I guess. Nothing too serious.”

Castiel pushed his back into Dean’s chest, cuddling closer to him and holding Dean’s hand where it rested on Cas’s waist. “Yes. Take it slow.” Tired as he was, Cas was aware this was probably for the best. He’d never been in a relationship before, and throwing himself into one headfirst might be detrimental to their success, and honestly, he wasn’t even close to thinking about the ‘L-word’ or taking any other major steps.

“Okay,” Dean murmured, pressing one last kiss to Cas’s hairline. “Goodnight, Cas.”

~

Castiel soared through the next day at work. He was so far up in the clouds that not even Roman being his usual self could bring him down. His morning had started off so wonderfully (including lazily making-out with Dean in bed, along with kneeling and being hand-fed bites of Dean’s homemade blueberry pancakes for breakfast) that he was determined not to allow anything to ruin his day.

During his and Roman's meeting focused on the company’s profit margin, Castiel could barely prevent himself from squirming in his chair. Dean had certainly done as Castiel requested and made it so Cas could feel him all throughout the day, and Castiel loved every minute of it. It distracted him and kept him happy enough that he didn’t have to fight off the urge to choke Roman throughout the entire meeting, which was a pleasant change.

After the meeting, he went to the restroom and pulled down his shirt collar to admire the marks Dean had left on him. He wore them like a badge of pride and was happy that they hadn’t faded much throughout the day. The constant reminder of Dean and what had transpired between the two of them the night before had him smiling to himself throughout the day, to the point that Roman stopped him in the hallway and told him to knock it off.

Once he was finished with work, he went back to his apartment and found Meg sitting in the living room with Gordon Ramsay shouting on the TV and a Styrofoam container of pad thai waiting for him. He greeted her and went straight to his bedroom, dropping off his briefcase and changing out of his suit into his pajamas. 

As soon as he came back into the living room and plopped down beside her on the couch, she gasped dramatically and shrieked, “Oh my god! Clarence, you’re kidding me right now, aren’t you? Or maybe I’m hallucinating?”

“What are you talking about?” he said, genuinely confused.

“Let me spell it out for you. One, you spend the past several days moping and refusing to talk to me. I know this is because your mother called and upset you.” At Cas’s surprised look, she said, “I’m not a total dumbass, Clarence, I know how to check the caller ID. As soon as I saw her name, I knew she was the problem. But, you won’t talk to me, so I give you your space. Then, you disappear last night and don’t bother coming home. I assumed you were at your not-boyfriend’s house, but I was worried. I _hate_ worrying.”

Cas started to apologize, but Meg held up a hand to silence him. “And finally, you come home tonight glowing like you’re pregnant and with your neck covered in bruises like an idiot teenager that’s been mauled by a bear!”

Shit, he’d forgotten his sleep shirt didn’t cover the marks like his work shirt did. Cas blushed and tried to think of anything to say to her but was drawing a blank. She smirked at his blush and shook her head at him. “Naughty, naughty, Clarence. I’m not unfamiliar with seeking comfort in the form of cock, but this is unusual for you. You generally just brood for several days.”

He stammered, trying to gather himself, as she said, “Don’t try to deceive me. I know those are ‘love bites’, and I can tell from the way you’re walking that you got fucked last night. I’m not a complete idiot.”

Fuck it, might as well be honest. “You’re right, Meg. On all accounts, though I think if I’d been mauled by a bear I’d be a bit more bloody. Maybe less sore.” Not that he’d be complaining about that anytime soon. 

“Well, Clarence, now that I’ve enjoyed myself, I have to say I have nothing against using sex to make yourself feel better. As long as you’re not hurting so much anymore. Now be quiet for a minute, I want to hear Ramsay make someone cry.” 

Castiel picked up his food and ate until the next commercial. He thought while she watched her program and decided to he wanted to share with her at least some of what had happened. When the TV changed from angry chefs to an ad for a dating site, he turned to Meg again and said, “That guy I’ve been seeing? It’s not just about the sex anymore.” Not that it ever really had been, but that was the easiest explanation he could think of. 

Meg said, “Oh really? Do tell, Clarence.”

“I-I’m not sure, but something good happened, and I think it could turn into something special. I’m feeling very hopeful,” he said lightly, trying to sound casual.

“You know what? I think that’s actually great. I know I say romance and all that junk is stupid, but if it’s something that might make you happy, you should go for it.” She smiled at him sincerely, and he felt his heart swell with affection for her. 

“Thank you, Meg.”

“Don’t mention it. Seriously, don’t mention it ever again.” He rolled his eyes and laughed, relaxing into the couch to spend the night watching her reality TV shows with her. 

Once they’d watched Ramsay’s cooking show, _The Bachelor_ , and _Maury_ , he rose from the couch to go to bed early and catch up on the sleep he’d missed the past several nights.

Before he made it out of the living room, she called after him. “Wait, you distracted me earlier, but I have a message for you! Your douchey brother, Michael, called and said to remind you to email Anna. No clue what he’s talking about, but he was very self-righteous and pompous about it.”

Cas sighed and thanked her for passing on the message. He trudged to his room, retrieved his laptop, and logged into his email, figuring he may as well get this over with. He clicked on the ‘New Message’ button and wracked his brain, staring at the blinking cursor and trying to think of how to initiate contact with his sister. 

He pressed his fingers to one of the marks on his collarbone and, trying to think of what Dean would tell him, began typing:

_**Dear Anna...**_


	14. Chapter 14

Castiel sat in the lobby of Heavenly Delights and checked his email for what had to be the thousandth time of the day. He sighed heavily when there was nothing in his inbox except for a message from Roman pointing out a tiny error he’d made in a report earlier that week and a reminder to renew his _Bee Culture_ subscription.

It had been Thursday evening when he’d emailed Anna, and now it was Friday afternoon and he’d yet to receive a response. He wasn’t sure why; he’d been perfectly polite and courteous. He hadn’t really known what to say to his sister, so he’d mostly asked about how her schooling was going and if she’d thought much about college, but he’d kept it casual and not brought up their mother, so he didn’t think Anna would be purposely ignoring him. 

He just wanted to hear from her so that he could inform Naomi that he’d tried to force Anna back on the ‘path of righteousness’, and then he could return to his life without his mother’s interference. It was painful to him that he couldn’t have a relationship with his family, but if interacting with them was only going to turn him into the wreck he’d been earlier that week, it wasn’t worth it.

He slammed his laptop shut and laid it back in its case, then picked up one of the high-end fashion magazines that was lying on a table for clients to read while waiting for their appointments and paged through it mindlessly until a receptionist called him back to Crowley’s office. 

He hadn’t returned here since that first meeting when Crowley had set him up with Dean, and as he walked to Crowley’s office, it was with a much lighter heart than he’d had during that initial appointment. Gone was the nervousness, the self-disgust, the crushing sadness and loneliness he felt when he thought he was incapable of having a partner without paying for one.

Instead, he was on cloud nine. He felt giddy every time he thought back to Dean saying that he felt the same way, that he was willing to try a relationship with Castiel. Cas wasn’t even quite sure what they were to each other, but he didn’t think they needed a label yet; he was happy just being ‘Dean and Cas’ for now, and thought they could work from there. 

With this in mind, he bound right into Crowley’s office without knocking, eager to begin their meeting and share some of his happiness with someone else, even if that someone else was Crowley, who glowered up at Castiel from where he sat at his desk, looking simultaneously unruffled and annoyed at Cas’s sudden entrance. 

“I appreciate you inviting yourself in, Cassie,” he said irritably, gathering several slips of paper into an orderly stack in front of him. “Are we that excited today?”

Castiel sunk into the leather chair across from Crowley and said, “Yes, I am. I actually have good news.”

Crowley raised an eyebrow at him. “Do you now? Well, this is quite a difference from the dour-faced young man I met…oh, what was it? Three months ago?” He smirked at Cas and said, “Has having someone to paddle your arse lifted that sourness?”

A blush spread across Castiel’s face at Crowley’s words, even though was feeling bold enough that he almost said ‘We haven’t quite gotten to try that yet, but I’m hoping we will soon.’ However, he bit his tongue and settled for saying, “Yes, it has as a matter of fact. Things have gone very well with Dean, so well that we’ve decided to begin a non-paying relationship.”

This wasn’t met with the ‘congratulations’ Castiel had hoped for. He hadn't expected Crowley to be ecstatic or anything, but he'd thought he may receive more than a glare cast in his direction. 

“Excuse me, Mr. Milton? Did you say that you and Winchester have begun a non-paying relationship? As in one where you will no longer be requiring my services? As in one where I’ll be losing a client and the money said client provides?”

Cas hadn’t thought about it like that. “Hmm, well, that is definitely true. I’m sorry, but I’m sure you’ll find more clients. I simply wanted to inform you in person why I would no longer be requiring your services. I didn’t want you to think there was anything wrong with my experience or that Dean did anything I didn’t want when in reality the opposite’s true.”

“Bully for you! I’m delighted that I could help you find that special someone,” Crowley said contemptuously and wrote something down on the pages in front of him, grumbling under his breath about how thrilled he was to be Castiel’s personal matchmaker.

He peered back up at Castiel and said, “You know, I could always tell your dear big brother about this. Let Gabriel know what his little brother is up to. That wouldn’t make your religious nut job family very happy would it, should Gabriel ever let this slip to your mother?”

Dammit, he should have expected that Gabriel would've overshared about his past with his employees, Castiel thought as his stomach clenched in anxiety. “You wouldn’t do that,” Cas said uncertainly. 

“You’re right, I don’t actually care,” Crowley replied with an exaggerated eye-roll. “But should you come back here and pull something like this again, I will destroy you. I don’t know how, but it _will_ be horrible and you _will_ regret your actions.”

He slid the papers across the desk to Castiel and placed a pen in Cas’s hand. “Sign those to terminate your contract.”

As Castiel read through the papers before signing, Crowley said, “You truly must have been desperate when you first came here. You looked like a kicked puppy. And our services really aren’t cheap either. I suppose you must make a decent income as an accountant, but I’m sure you don’t make enough that you would sign up for something like this if you weren’t truly in need.”

Castiel chose not to answer him. The sad thing was, Crowley was right. Cas had been lonely and yearning for _something_ even if he didn’t know exactly what, and he’d wanted to get the monkey off his shoulder that caused him to have desires that used to make him hate himself. Signing up for Heavenly Delights had been a splurge, one he didn’t take lightly given his tendency to live frugally, not wanting to ever have to ask his mother for financial help. This was the first impractical thing he’d spent money on in ages. He’d planned to pay for a Dom’s services for a month, or however long he needed to get over himself, and then move on. 

It was just a happy, stunning accident that Dean ended up genuinely liking him.

After Castiel finished reading and signing the papers, he passed them back to Crowley, who said, “I suppose it’s time to bid you farewell, Cassie. I’ll miss pestering you weekly and demanding that you pay me. It’s been grand.”

They both stood, and Crowley stretched out his hand for Castiel shake, which Cas accepted. As soon as he had Cas’s hand in his, Crowley said, “I’m sure you and Winchester will be very happy doing whatever it is you both get up to.”

“We will,” Cas said, and then flushed when he realized how that could be taken.

Crowley grinned at him and said, “I would say I don’t want to know, but that would be a lie. I’ve met Winchester, and I have to admit that, despite the fact that he looks like a live-action Ken doll, I’d let him have his way with me, too.”

“Goodbye, Crowley,” Cas said, yanking his hand from Crowley’s and marching over to the door.

“If you both ever want to engage in a little ménage à trois-” was the last thing Castiel heard out of Crowley before slamming the door in his face.

~

Castiel took the metro back to his apartment to change out of his work clothing before heading to Dean’s house for the evening. Dean hadn’t mentioned wanting to change their schedule, so Cas assumed that since it was a Friday evening Dean would be expecting him.

He’d almost finished packing his bag for the weekend when he checked his phone and saw that he had an unread message and a couple missed calls from Dean. He flipped open his phone and felt his heart sink when he read the message that was waiting for him.

_**Hey Cas. I know I’m a real dick for doing this but I have to cancel for this week. I have a family obligation that came up suddenly that I have to take care of. I’m really sorry :( I hope we’re still on for next weekend, though?** _

Well, that was disappointing. He’d been excited about seeing Dean all day, so excited that he had wanted to share that enthusiasm with _Crowley_ of all people. 

Castiel tried not to be angry at Dean; he saw that the message had been sent and the calls had been made earlier in the afternoon when Cas was still at work. He sometimes forgot to check his phone on days when work was more hectic than usual, so it wasn’t like Dean hadn’t tried to contact him in advance.

Besides, Castiel remembered Sam mentioning at the party about wanting to spend more time with Dean. He’d felt guilty then, like he was tearing Dean away from his family. He knew Dean didn’t feel that way (or at least he was fairly confident that Dean didn’t think that), but he also was aware that Dean had people in his life other than Castiel. Maybe he simply needed to have some family time. It hurt that Castiel wasn’t included, especially since he had been invited to Dean’s last family obligation, but he did understand. 

Cas replied agreeing that they were still on for next weekend and tried to resist the thought that had crept up in the back of his mind that maybe it wasn’t a coincidence that the first time Dean canceled on him was the first weekend after starting a genuine relationship. Castiel cringed at that thought and tried to distract himself with something, anything. Meg would be home soon, so maybe they could watch more of Gordon Ramsay shouting at people, and maybe that would help take away Cas’s worries.

He’d done just fine for years without Dean; he could certainly survive a weekend without him.

~

The weekend passed uneventfully. He set his phone aside and forced himself not to check it constantly on the off chance Dean sent him something and went about business as usual, just like he would have on his pre-Dean weekends. He made progress on seemingly endless analyses and reports for work, ate a series of TV dinners and boxes of take-out food with Meg, and most definitely did not think about Dean much at all. He did not lie in bed at night pining for Dean and wishing he was at Dean’s house in Dean’s arms, as though he were some sad character in a Nicholas Sparks novel.

Volunteering at the shelter was as pleasant as usual and was the one definite bright spot in his weekend. Being with the animals there always soothed him, and they even took his mind off of Dean throughout Saturday afternoon, particularly a sickly kitten that he’d spent a large portion of the afternoon bottle-feeding.

He dragged himself back into work on Monday, hoping that maybe Dean would text him and make his day more bearable, and was pleased to see a new message from Dean waiting for him when he checked his phone during a break.

**_Are you still up for coming over to my place this weekend? Even though I’m a jerk for canceling on you?_**

Castiel was a little aggravated that Dean was texting him with no explanation as to why Cas hadn’t heard from him all weekend, but he chose to let it go and send back a quick agreement to meeting the coming Saturday. As much as Cas wanted to be irritated, he was already looking forward to seeing Dean again.

The next couple days went by quickly enough. He and Dean fell back into their pattern of texting back and forth at work, which never failed to make Cas’s days unimaginably brighter, no matter what Dean was talking about. Whether Dean was telling him about a classic car his shop was restoring or the new pie recipes his mom was experimenting with, Cas always loved to learn more about Dean's life. He loved that Dean wanted to hear about him in return, too, and that Dean was always ready to listen to him vent his frustrations on a bad day, or congratulate him on his successes, or simply _be_ there for him in small ways, like letting Cas share with him a new bit of info he’d learned about beekeeping.

He was curious about Dean's family issue and was sorely tempted to ask Dean how it went or what it was that had happened, but Cas wasn’t sure yet if it was okay for him to ask questions like that. He didn’t want to be intrusive and obnoxious and potentially drive Dean away. If Dean wanted to share with him whatever had happened, he would do so on his own terms. If something was seriously wrong, Castiel just hoped that Dean would tell him.

By Thursday, any lingering anger towards Dean had faded and was replaced with anticipation for the coming weekend, so as he sat alone as usual during his lunch break that day, he tried to think of something he could do to make the next two days pass more quickly. He wasn't exactly thrilled about his current plans for the evening (Netflix with Meg), but he could at least daydream about what the weekend might hold while Meg made him watch _Mean Girls_ again. His phone chimed as he was considering this, and he couldn't stop the smile that spread across his face when he saw that it was his first message of the day from Dean. 

He flipped his phone open and read, _**Cas, you still interested in trying something new, maybe something a little more intense than what we’ve done before?**_

Absolutely. As soon as he read the message, ideas began formulating in his mind about what Dean may come up with. He couldn’t let his imagination run wild in the middle of the office lounge, though, so he typed back a quick affirmative and then went back to his lunch. 

Before long, his phone buzzed again. _**How nosy is your roommate?**_

Cas was puzzled as to why Dean would ask that, but his break would be over soon and he didn't have much time to ask questions. 

_**Quite, but she does respect my privacy if I have a good reason to need it.** _

A moment later, Dean replied, _**Does the fact that your Dom has missed you and wants to start the weekend early count as a good reason?**_

It sounded like the best reason Castiel could imagine. Stomach fluttering pleasantly at the words _'missed you'_ , he replied, _**Definitely counts.**_ Meg was used to him disappearing to his room at night to read in peace or complete a couple projects for work in advance, so she wouldn't think it odd if he went to bed early tonight.

_**Awesome. I'll call you at 10.** _

And just like that, Castiel's evening was looking brighter.


	15. Chapter 15

_9:58._

“You know, Meg, I think I’m going to turn in early tonight,” Castiel said, stomach coiling in anticipation. Dean would be calling him in a couple minutes to ‘start the weekend early’, so it was time to tell Meg he’d be skipping the rest of their movie night. 

“But we were just about to start _Legally Blonde_? I know you don’t always love my movies, but that’s one I know you secretly like, Clarence,” Meg said, looking at him in confusion. 

He couldn’t deny that she was right about that. “You’re correct, but I’m…awaiting an important phone call,” he said, trying not to blush too much.

He must have failed in that endeavor, because she grinned and waggled her eyebrows at him, saying, “Ooh, could this important phone call be from your sorta-kinda-boyfriend?”

“That’s entirely possible.” There was really no point denying it, and honestly, he didn’t want to. It felt oddly good to have Meg know about Dean, or at least the vague details of Dean.

“Well, have fun talking to the whatever-he-is, and I will be sure to turn up the TV extra loud in case you both decide to have a little long-distance action,” she said, winking at him and turning the volume up as she spoke.

“We will not be doing anything like-” he started, but then decided he might as well own up to it. Besides, as Dean had pointed out many times, Cas wasn’t exactly known for being able to keep quiet. “Turning up the volume may be an excellent idea. Your courtesy is appreciated,” he said, scrambling off of the couch and back to his bedroom before he could stick his foot even further into his mouth. 

As soon as he made it to his room, he locked the door behind him and stretched out on the bed until he found a comfy position lying on his back, his skin feeling like it was alight with excitement. He knew it was pathetic, how eager he was to talk to Dean and hear his voice after a week of just texting back and forth, but he was having an increasingly difficult time controlling his emotions ever since he met Dean. 

After a minute, right as his bedside clock read out ten o’clock, his cellphone chimed out the _Star Trek_ theme, which Cas had chosen as Dean’s ringtone a week ago. Cas opened his phone, clasping it between his ear and shoulder so he’d have both hands free, and said, “Hello, Dean,” and then instantly regretted how breathless and eager he sounded.

He was met with a low chuckle that made him feel warm and glowing inside. “Hey, Cas,” Dean said, and then paused for a moment before saying, “Cas, before anything else, I want to apologize for cancelling on you last weekend. I feel really shitty about ditching you. I’ll do my best to make sure it doesn’t happen again.”

Even though he had been irritated with Dean earlier in the week about the cancellation, he was over it by now, and if he hadn’t been, hearing how sincere and regretful Dean sounded certainly would have taken away any lingering anger. “You don’t have to be sorry. Things happen sometimes that are beyond our control. I just hope everything’s all right with your family?”

“Yeah, they’re okay, Cas, thanks for asking.” Cas was relieved. He’d been worried both for Dean’s sake and simply because he hated the thought of anyone, let alone Dean’s family, hurting. 

Cas hesitated, unsure of what to say next. Dean spoke up first, saying, “Even if you’re not upset with me for cancelling, how about you let me make it up to you anyway? Got something planned for tonight and this weekend I think you’ll like.”

Cas’s breath hitched as his imagination spun out ideas about what Dean might have in mind for him. Maybe they’d try some of the things they’d discussed when they’d first set up their relationship contract, the ones they hadn’t gotten to try yet since Dean, for whatever reason, seemed to want to go slowly with him.

“Yes, I’d like that very much, Dean. Let’s ‘start the weekend early’ as you said,” Cas said, trying for a confident and sultry tone that probably came out as awkward and dorky. 

“All right, Cas. I assume you’re already someplace private, right?” Dean asked.

“Yes, sir,” Cas said, twisting his fingers in his bedspread and attempting to calm down.

“Good boy. Now, I want you to take your shirt off if it’s not already, and then start lightly touching your nipples.”

Castiel slipped his t-shirt over his head, tossed it on the floor, and then reclined against his pillow so that he was propped up slightly against the headboard. He lightly traced over his nipples with his fingers, and they were sensitive as always, each touch sending little sparks of pleasure straight to his cock. 

He sighed as he rubbed along his nipples, pinching and twisting them gently until they were hard and pebbled, and imagined Dean’s calloused fingers on him instead. As Cas let out a breathy moan, Dean asked, “That feel good, baby?”

_Baby?_ Dean hadn’t called him that before, but Cas was sure he could get used to it. “Yes, sir. I do wish you were here touching me instead, though.”

“Me, too,” Dean said softly, almost whispering. “I’ve missed you, Cas.”

“Missed you, too,” Cas groaned. He was thrilled to hear again that Dean had missed him, that he hadn’t been the only one pining over the past week, but it was awfully difficult to concentrate as his cock hardened and strained against his pajama pants. 

After a moment’s hesitation, Dean said, “I wish I had you with me right now, Cas. Just two more days. But right now, I want you to take your cock out. You nice and hard for me yet?” 

Cas moaned at the friction as he freed his cock from his pajamas, sliding them down his hips and tossing them on the floor with his shirt, and gripped his cock tightly in his hand. “Yes, I am.”

“Good. Do you have lube?” After Cas answered in the affirmative, Dean said, “Pour some onto your palm and stroke yourself slowly. Don’t thrust into your hand too much or squeeze too hard. I don’t want you to come right now.”

Cas did as he was told and sunk into the bed, feeling like he was becoming boneless and overheated. He continued to stroke himself with one hand and trace all along his inner thighs with the other as Dean whispered encouragement in his ear, loving how it felt to take this slowly for once. When he was alone, he usually got himself off quickly and efficiently so that he could move on with his day, but Dean made him slow down and truly _savor_ the experience, luxuriate in it.

As Cas began to feel heat build at the base of his spine, Dean said, “Take your hand off your cock and pour more lube onto your fingers.”

Castiel did this and spread his legs wide in anticipation for what he hoped was coming next. Dean said, “Place your fingers against your hole, but don’t push inside yet. Just press against it and around it, and get yourself good and wet.”

Cas rubbed all over his hole, making his legs quiver and his cock begin to leak as he teased himself with the thought of how Dean would look if he was there with him right now. He tried to keep quiet for Meg’s sake, but he couldn’t prevent desperate little gasps from escaping despite his attempts to keep them inside.

“God, you sound amazing, Cas. You always sound so fucking perfect; makes me think of being there with you, so I could spread those legs of yours wide open and fuck you myself.” 

Castiel whimpered, wondering if Dean was touching himself too, if he was thinking about pounding deep inside of Castiel and wanting it just as badly as Cas did. “Sir, please…” Cas whined. 

Dean shushed him and said, “Push one finger inside, and once that’s comfortable, push another one in. Add a third when it can slide in easily. Keep them still, though; I don’t want you moving yet.”

Cas eagerly pressed the first finger in, and once he adjusted to the feeling, he pushed the second one in, the third following shortly after, and he felt like he may explode if Dean didn’t let him move soon. A rebellious part of him wanted to go ahead and fuck himself on his fingers anyway, but he wanted even more to please Dean and hear the pride in his voice when Castiel did as he was instructed. 

“They’re in, sir,” Castiel said breathlessly.

“Now pump them in and out, but do _not_ touch your prostate.”

Cas obeyed immediately, groaning at how wonderful this felt and at Dean murmuring to him about how in a couple days it would be his cock filling Castiel up instead. He carefully avoided his prostate, but he would need more than this to push himself over the edge. 

“Castiel, are you close?” Dean asked as Castiel squirmed desperately on the bed, soaking his blanket in sweat.

“Y-yes, I am, sir,” Castiel stammered, clutching at his sheets with his free hand since Dean hadn’t said he could touch his cock again.

“Now stop. Take your fingers out, and stop touching yourself entirely,” Dean said easily, as though Cas wasn’t writhing around half out of his mind with need. 

Castiel’s fingers paused as his mind caught up with Dean and fully registered what he’d just been told. _Stop?_ Now, when he was so, so close? He was sorely tempted to keep going. Dean wouldn’t know any different, after all. His cock was aching and flushed, bobbing against his stomach as he tried to catch his breath. He deliberated for a long moment before pulling out of himself, his hole clenching at the air at the sudden emptiness. He laid his hands by his sides, clenching them into fists, and said, “Yes, sir. I’ve stopped.”

“Good boy, Cas. I’m proud of you. I know how hard that must have been, and I’m so happy with you for doing so anyway,” Dean said, and even though Cas wanted so damn badly to come, he loved Dean’s praise more.

“Are you okay?” Dean asked after giving Castiel a moment to catch his breath and sprawl out on his bed. 

“Yes, I am,” Cas said shakily as his erection wavered and his thighs stopped twitching. And the odd thing was, he really, really was fine. He should have felt angry about being denied an orgasm or just taken matters into his own hands and jerked himself off regardless of what Dean said, but earning Dean’s pride was more valuable to him than that. 

Dean whispered praises into the phone as Castiel continued winding down, his heartbeat slowing from the hummingbird’s pace it had had moments before and his skin beginning to cool after being flushed all over. 

“Castiel, can you talk to me now, or do you need another minute or two?” After Cas answered and said that he could speak, Dean said, “I don’t want you to touch your cock or your ass again until I see you this Saturday. Do you think you can do that for me, Cas?”

Though he wanted to quickly get himself off right now and relieve the tension he felt inside, he wanted even more to do exactly as Dean ordered him to, perfectly. “Yes, sir. I won’t touch myself.”

“Good boy.” After a couple minutes, during which Cas stretched his stiff muscles, Dean said, “Since I’m not there, I need you to do a couple more things for me, Cas, all right?” Cas murmured in agreement, and Dean continued, “I want you to stand up carefully – you may be a little shaky-, and assuming your roommate’s home, put your clothes back on and go to the kitchen.”

Castiel did this, glad for Dean’s advice to be careful since his legs were a little wobbly, and headed out to the kitchen, phone still clasped to his ear. He passed by the living room and saw that Meg had fallen asleep on the couch before speaking. “I’m in the kitchen now, sir.”

“Pick out some juice and crackers. I’d like you to eat something before falling asleep.”

Castiel grabbed a box of goldfish and poured a glass of lemonade to take back to his room, and then stopped on the way to arrange Meg into a more comfortable sleeping position and drape a blanket over her. Once he was back in his room, he flicked the ceiling fan on; his body still felt overheated and oversensitive, so he definitely wasn’t going to be crawling under the covers soon.

He kept Dean on the line as he ate a couple handfuls of goldfish and sipped his drink. While Cas ate, Dean spoke to him quietly about Mary and how she’d recently said she’d like to see Cas again, which lifted Cas’s spirits even higher. He supposed this was long-distance aftercare, and it was working exceedingly well. He was feeling pretty damn great for someone who’d just been denied an orgasm. His cock felt too heavy and his blood still seemed to be boiling under his skin, but for some fucked up reason, following Dean’s orders and making him pleased made Cas feel _good_ and at peace with himself.

Once he told Dean he’d finished his snack, Dean asked, “You’re coming to my place after you’re finished at the shelter Saturday, right?”

“Yes, I’ll be there, sir.” Of course he would be; Cas would always be there whenever Dean wanted him. He couldn’t think of anywhere else he’d rather be.

“Awesome. I’m getting back into town Saturday morning and will be at work all afternoon trying to catch up on anything I’ve missed this week; Bobby and Benny probably want to wring my neck for being gone all week. But I’ll be ready for you with dinner whenever you get to my house.”

“Wait, you’re not in town?” And he hadn’t even told Castiel?

“Nah, I’m back in Kansas. My dad needed me for something. Everything’s taken care of now, though. No worries. Well, I’m a little worried about flying home, but I mean, seriously, I’ll be sailing through the air in a giant fucking metal can, who wouldn’t be sort of nervous?”

Castiel wanted to ask Dean for more details about his visit with his father, but he couldn’t tell whether that was appropriate or too nosy. Cas hated this, absolutely hated that he was sometimes so bad at reading people and their emotions that he couldn’t tell how he was expected to respond. He understood Dean better than he understood other people, but he was still so uncertain about so many things that came naturally to seemingly everyone else.

Ultimately, he decided to take the safe route and simply try to comfort Dean about his fear of flying. His natural instinct was to throw out statistics about how unlikely a plane crash was, but he tried to keep in mind that there were better ways to be comforting than offering up facts and logic. “I know this might be of no comfort, but um, perhaps you can think of something that makes you happy while you’re on the plane? Like your family, or your friends?”

Dean chuckled and said, “I’ll think of you, Cas, and how much I’m looking forward to seeing you Saturday and how much you’re gonna love the new chocolate lava cake recipe I have for you to try.”

“Or think of me sitting at the office or at my apartment, trying furiously not to masturbate to the thought of whatever you’ll be doing to me this weekend.”

Dean laughed outright and said, “Or that, too. Now you go to sleep and rest up for work tomorrow.”

It was a bit earlier than when he usually went to bed, but he really was tired. And, with any luck, he’d be having the sort of weekend that you needed to rest up for. After setting his crackers and drink on his nightstand and turning his lamp off, Cas said, “Okay. Goodnight, sir.” 

“Goodnight, Cas.”

~

Friday passed by in a blur of meetings and presentations where Castiel was only half-focused on whatever the speaker was saying and mostly concentrating on hiding the erection he was nursing all day.

Most other days, he was able to keep himself in check, but being expressly told _not_ to get himself off and _not_ to come made him think about doing so far more often than he regularly would.

He was continuously thinking back to the night before, or of what the weekend might hold, becoming half-hard, and then attempting to force those thoughts aside, which only made it more difficult to think about anything else.

It straddled the line between pain and pleasure, and Castiel knew he was screwed-up for wanting this, for loving to do what Dean told him to. There was something that appealed to him about knowing that he _could_ disobey, that really he could do whatever he wanted, and Dean would be none the wiser; he liked that he was actively choosing to obey. It gave him some sick sense of achievement and satisfaction that was entirely separate from the more physical rewards Dean would almost certainly give him later.

Having boundaries given to him by someone he trusted and being allowed to want and need without worrying about going too far was about the best feeling he could imagine.

So on Saturday evening, he arrived at Dean’s house with both a light heart and an aching cock, along with a case of nerves. It was their first weekend together that Castiel wouldn’t be paying for, and though he’d moved past most of his anxiety over what he and Dean did together, he was feeling awkward and nervous.

After taking a deep breath in an effort to soothe himself, he walked up the steps of the porch and rapped on the door, wrapping his trench coat more tightly around him; it was late November and evenings were beginning to feel chilly. Dean quickly opened the door for him and greeted him with a big grin that warmed Castiel’s heart and instantly made him feel calmer. 

“Hey, Cas,” Dean said, motioning Cas inside and shutting the door behind him. 

“Hello, Dean,” Cas said, taking a moment to enjoy the smoky scent emanating from the kitchen and drink in the sight of Dean. Dean must not have been home from work very long, Cas decided, since he was still wearing a white dress shirt with its sleeves rolled up and a tie hanging loosely from his neck. It really wasn’t fair, how attractive Dean was. Castiel thought he was gorgeous in sweatpants and a t-shirt, but there was something about Dean in formal wear that made Castiel want to drop to his knees and let Dean put that tie to better use, like binding Cas’s hands behind his back, or gagging him, or-

His train of thought was interrupted when he realized Dean was smirking at him. Cas blushed at having been caught staring and being so distracted that he’d paused right in the middle of the foyer, but Dean just laughed at him and said, “I’m glad that you like the outfit, Cas; at least one of us should. I’m not a big fan of the monkey suit myself.”

In an attempt to regain a little dignity, Cas met his eyes and said, “I apologize for gawking at you. I was simply thinking of better uses for that tie of yours.”

Dean’s eyes flashed with excitement. “I’ve already thought of at least a dozen, but those are for later, Cas. Right now, I want you to go upstairs and shower while I finish preparing dinner. I have instructions written for you on a note I left on your bed. Come back down here whenever you’re finished,” he said and began marching back towards the kitchen.

Cas started towards the stairs, but he stopped when Dean turned back around and called out for him. “Cas? You look…um, you look really great, too.”

Castiel knew, judging by the fact that both women and men hit on him not infrequently, that he wasn’t _unattractive_ , but he also was aware that a baggy trench coat covered in fur from an afternoon at the animal shelter, along with smelling like a wet dog from giving the animals baths, wasn’t the most appealing thing ever. And Dean called him gorgeous, or beautiful, or sexy, pretty damn often, especially during scenes, and had made it plain many times before that he thought Castiel was attractive on some level.

But this felt different somehow. Maybe it was the soft, sweet way Dean was looking at him, but Cas suddenly felt warm down to the tips of his toes. He was never sure how to respond to this sort of attention; it was overwhelming, and honestly scared him a little, so he was relieved when Dean headed to the kitchen and left him to walk upstairs, feeling somewhat dazed.

He told himself to get a grip as he made it into his bedroom, dropped his overnight bag on the floor, and picked up the note that was lying on his bed. 

_Castiel, take your time showering. I want you to be comfortable and relaxed tonight, so don’t feel like you have to rush. While you’re in there, I’d like you to prep yourself and wear the plug I’ve set on your bathroom counter. Take as long as you need, but do **not** come. I want you back downstairs and naked whenever you’re ready._

Cas, cock stirring as he thought of what Dean may have planned, set the note back down on the bed and went into the bathroom, where a pale blue plug and a bottle of lube waited for him on the counter, along with a second note, this one written in all-caps and telling him to take his time and not hurt himself. That wouldn’t be an issue; he’d had Dean work him open enough times that he knew what pace to go at. 

He grabbed the plug and the bottle, turned the shower on and let the water heat until it was nearly scalding, just how he liked it, and then stood directly under the shower head to let the hot water melt away all the tension in his muscles. He took Dean at his word and let himself linger and revel in the sensation of the beads of water pounding into his skin before washing himself with the expensive shampoo and soap Dean seemed to favor. His skin was already over-sensitized, and rubbing his hands all over his body, scrubbing each tiny crevice clean, was quickly making him hard. He’d felt achy and needy off and on for almost two days now, and each time he strayed too close to his cock, he felt like a rubber band stretched too tightly and about to snap. 

He rinsed himself off and squirted a healthy amount of lube onto his palm so that he could begin working the plug inside. Placing his left hand against the shower wall and reaching behind himself with the right, he spread lube all over his hole and eased a finger inside himself, then pressed another two in once he was loose enough. 

A finger brushed against his prostate, and he jolted, nearly slipping. He wanted to seek out that feeling again, but he stopped himself, remembering what Dean had told him. 

Once he was stretched open with four fingers, he set the tip of the plug against his rim and slowly, _slowly_ began to ease it in. It felt heavenly, so good that, as his hole clenched around it, his knees buckled, and he had to brace himself against the shower wall to keep himself from falling. He pushed it in further and moaned loudly when its bulbous head hit his prostate, and pleasure coursed hotly through his body. He moved the hand that had been against the wall to his cock, and squeezed its base tightly to stop himself from coming then and there.

Usually this wouldn’t have been such a challenge, Cas thought, but after being on edge for so long, even brushing against his prostate was too much. He slid the plug all the way in, accidentally hitting that sensitive spot again, and he was so tense and edgy and desperate that, without thinking about it, he sought out the sensation once more, this time dragging the plug in and out of himself, almost unconsciously, and fucking upwards into the hand that was holding his cock. 

Before he could even think to control himself, he was coming over his hand, and then leaning against the wall and sliding down to sit on the floor of the shower as his legs lost their strength. For a long moment, he sat there, savoring the sensation of release, of relieving the tension that had been making him feel he was about to burst. 

All too soon, though, his capacity for rational thought returned, and he realized how badly he’d just screwed up. Shit. He couldn’t do anything right. His first weekend with Dean that he _wasn’t_ paying for, and within thirty minutes, he’d already managed to fuck up. 

He gathered himself up off the shower floor, washed any trace of come off his body, then stepped out of the shower and toweled himself dry, the entire time berating himself for being so stupid and weak, as well as wondering how disappointed Dean would be with him. Realistically, he probably couldn’t be more disappointed in Castiel than Cas was disappointed in himself, but Cas was sure he wouldn’t be happy. 

Dean didn’t often give him orders like this outside of a given scene since for, whatever reason, he was determined to take things gradually with Castiel. This was new territory for them, and Castiel was furious with himself for messing up already.

He would at least follow through on the rest of his instructions. He headed back downstairs, naked and wearing the plug, trying to decide how to tell Dean what he’d done. Maybe after dinner would be best; he didn’t want to ruin the evening more than he already had, so maybe this way, they could at least enjoy dinner together first. 

Cas picked a pillow up off the couch to kneel on before walking to the nook off to the side of the kitchen (Dean had a formal dining room but said he only ever used it when he had company over for business or holidays). Castiel felt even guiltier when he saw that Dean was already seated with a plate full of the homemade sweet potato fries Cas loved and steak prepared just how Castiel liked it. 

Dean looked up as Cas approached and set the pillow by Dean’s chair, fixing him with an intense, hungry stare that made Cas simultaneously want to cover himself up or preen and show his body off. As Cas sunk to his knees, Dean said, voice full of admiration, “How did I get so lucky as to have you?”

Cas stared down at the floor, knowing he didn’t deserve the compliment. In an attempt to keep Dean from noticing anything was wrong, instead of responding, he asked Dean how his flight was and how work was going. Dean was talented enough at reading him by now that Cas was fairly certain he knew something was off anyway, but he didn’t mention it. He stroked his fingers through Cas’s hair, hand-fed him bites of steak, and let Cas rest his head against Dean’s thigh during lulls in the conversation. 

This treatment never failed to make Cas feel cared for and at peace, but tonight he couldn’t relax. While he listened to Dean talk about the restoration of a ’67 Mustang they were working on, all Cas could focus on was how he’d disobeyed Dean, how he’d fucked up a simple request, how he didn’t deserve the food Dean had made him, or Dean’s gentle touches and kind words. He couldn’t even fully enjoy the sensation of the plug, which he generally loved the feeling of, or the taste of the chocolate lava cake Dean had made, or the way Dean’s fingers felt on his lips as he swiped Cas’s mouth clean. 

Once they were finished eating, Dean sent Castiel to the living room while he cleared the table and took care of the dirty dishes. Cas trudged into the living room and kneeled on his pillow in front of Dean’s usual spot on couch. Dean hadn’t specifically told him to kneel, which meant Cas could choose where he sat, and right now he wanted to be at Dean’s feet, which, strange as it was, always helped Cas feel centered.

He knew he was being silly, that something like this shouldn’t matter to him. He was a grown man who could do whatever he wanted with his body. But he loved obeying Dean and pleasing him, and he truly hated that he wasn’t able to successfully do so this time. 

Cas kept his head bowed as he heard Dean come back into the living room and sit down in front of him. He sighed heavily and said, “Castiel, look at me.”

Cas peered up at Dean and instinctively leaned into his touch when he brushed his knuckles across Cas’s cheek. Dean asked him, “What’s wrong, Cas? You came downstairs looking like you were about to cry and then were upset all throughout dinner. I didn’t push since I wanted to give you a chance to bring up whatever’s bothering you, but now I’m worried.”

“I…I came in the shower while I was putting the plug in,” Cas said.

“Well,” Dean said, eyes unreadable, “was it an accident?”

“Um, kind of,” Cas answered hesitantly. “I wasn’t trying to make myself come, but I just felt so _needy_ and desperate while working the plug inside, and uh, I purposely touched myself more than necessary. So, I think I could have stopped myself from coming if I had been thinking properly or tried harder.”

Dean’s hand went to the back of Cas’s neck and tugged on his hair so that he was forced to meet Dean’s eyes. “Castiel, listen to me. I’m not angry with you. I know it’s hard for you right now, but I don’t want you to feel like shit every time you make a mistake. When I told you not to come, I didn’t mean it like one of the rules we agreed to when we first started seeing each other. This wasn’t meant to be something for you to feel guilty about, and I know now that I should have made that clear from the start. I know you like being denied sometimes and being given limits, so I thought this would be something you enjoyed, but I never meant for you to be upset if you couldn’t do exactly as I said.”

“I _did_ enjoy it,” Cas said. “It made me think about you all day yesterday, and you’re right, I-I do like having boundaries.” It was difficult for Cas to say that aloud since he was aware of how fucked up it was, but he also knew Dean wouldn’t think any less of him for it.

“And I also like obeying you. It’s dumb, but it makes me feel good about myself when I can successfully do that, so when I came when you told me not to, it felt like I’d failed you,” he admitted, knowing his face had to be bright red.

“You didn’t fail me, and you never have. I should have made my thoughts clearer. I’ve said before how important communication is for us, but I fucked up this time. I’m sorry about that,” Dean said. 

Cas thought Dean was being much too hard on himself. He rested his head on Dean’s thigh and nuzzled into him, hoping the gesture was comforting, and said, “It’s okay. I appreciate you saying something, but I really don’t believe you did anything wrong either.” 

Dean smiled softly at him and began carding his fingers through Cas’s hair. Cas was immeasurably happier already, but he didn’t feel quite right. There was another thought on Cas’s mind, one that he wasn’t necessarily fond of but couldn’t ignore. “I…I know this is probably ridiculous, but I still feel like I should be punished.” It was so hard for him to ask for this, but that part of himself that he didn’t like very much was _yearning_ it.

Dean looked at him sharply and said, “First, that’s not ridiculous, and second, I’m not surprised. But I have to ask, do you mean like how you felt after speaking with your mom? Because if that’s the case, you know how I’ll respond. I won't hurt you when you're already beating yourself up.”

Castiel shook his head. “No, that’s not at all what I mean.” He didn’t know how to express this to Dean. He wasn’t furious at himself anymore after talking to Dean and he didn’t hate himself or truly want to be hurt, but he still wanted _consequences_. Not of the religious penance variety, but of the 'please, sir, bend me over and spank me' variety. But there was no way he could bring himself to ask for this; it was humiliating.

However, Dean really could read him all too well, Cas realized as a knowing look passed over Dean's face. Castiel watched as his expression shifted from concerned to carnal, as he leered at Cas and said, “Castiel, where are your manners? You’ve already disobeyed me. I’ve told you before: when you want something from me, you have to ask for it nicely.”

A shiver ran down Cas’s spine as nerves, the _good_ kind, filled his stomach. Maybe he hadn't ruined anything at all. Dean cupped his jaw and forced him to maintain eye contact as he said, “I…I want you to punish me, sir, please.”

“I thought you’d never ask,” Dean said with a wicked smile, then gave Cas a quick kiss on the forehead and the approving look that Cas always wanted from him. He stood, taking Castiel’s hand and lifting him off the floor, then lead Cas upstairs to the playroom.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for cutting it off here. Next chapter contains something I know one or two people might want to skip (warning will be given), so I ended this part here for their convenience.
> 
> More importantly, though, I’m so, so sorry to all of you for being so shitty. I swear I’m not trying to be deceptive when I’ve promised quicker updates in the past. I just keep expecting real life to improve, and it keeps not. I’m not doing so hot mentally at the moment, so I’ve been a bit drained and unable to write like I want to, and I’m truly sorry that it’s keeping me from being reliable. 
> 
> Hope you all liked it anyway, and thank you for reading. :)


End file.
